#george karim x fem!reader

[oblivious-idiot]

The Only Exception

Summary: George was never the most touchy feely person, but when you get Ghost-touched, he can't help but come to terms with his feelings.

A/N: this was kinda fun, it was really nice to have a bit of motivation to write again! sorry for the wait, but i hope you all like it <3

Warnings: fluff, hurt/comfort, ghost-touch (book version - non-fatal), mentions of injury/burns, swearing

Pairings: George Karim x fem!Reader

Word count: 2k

Taglist: @waitingforthesunrise @neewtmas @givemea-dam-break @wellgoslowly @ikeasupremacy (if anyone wants to be added/removed let me know!)

George wasn’t exactly the most touchy feely person in the world, but he was most definitely the caregiver, the mum friend of 35 Portland Road if you will. He didn’t tend to mask his disappointment or grumpiness when he had to look after Lockwood or stress clean when he’d done something reckless. But when it was you, he did it without a second thought - almost subconsciously he would trail after you and make sure you had everything you needed.

"Alright, Lucy and y/n take the left side of the building, George and I will take the right side. We'll meet back here in half and hour, agreed?" Lockwood said as he adjusted his rapier belt as everyone assed the map of the abandoned shipping warehouse "Remember, we could be looking for two sources tonight," George added in "try not to let yourselves get distracted." "Yes boss" you say as you shoot him a salut and chuckle "We'll be as quick as poss, just try not to get lost - we all know what Lockwood's sense of direction is like." Lockwood's eyebrow shot up at the comment and Lucy couldn't help but laugh too "She's not wrong."

When you answered the call for the case yesterday morning, it just sounded like your usual 'abandoned warehouse by the thames that the owner is too afraid to go into because of all the loud and perilous noises they hear'. You wrote down the address and agreed to check out the premises as soon as you could before handing the note to George for further investigation.

"What did they say? Just disturbances?" George asked "Just disturbances." you nodded in confirmation "They mentioned about how sometimes they hear stuff in multiple parts of the building, so there could be a chance of more than one visitor or even a poltergeist?" "I'll head to the Archives and see what I can find out, thanks y/n" George said with a smile as he took the note, your fingers brushing with contact. Your breath hitched and he quickly stood to grab his orange coat and headed to the door.

George came back later that evening looking rather defeated by his research, explaining that there was very little about the warehouse other than a couple of workers had died due to a fire and getting trapped. "Hmm, sounds absolutely thrilling" Lucy said grimly as she sipped her tea at the kitchen table, but Lockwood had a devilish smile as always "Let's go and check it out tonight, what's the worse that could happen?" "Uh, that we'd be under prepared" "Or we could die" both you and George chipped in, but Lockwood merely swatted away the comments.

"George, how 'bout you knock up something for dinner, y/n can you head out and get some more supplies? And Luce and I will pack up the bags" Lockwood said as he rose from his chair "mm, sounds like a splendid idea" you reply with a sarcastic tone, one that made George chuckle.

The evening went as smoothly as it ever did before a spontaneous case. Lockwood was over confident, George was frustrated and underprepared, while both you and Lucy were just disappointed and exasperated. It was often like this when it came to cases, Lockwood was always overzealous and eager to get any case done as soon as possible, while George (and everyone else) always preferred to spend a little more time preparing, especially if they had more than one visitor to deal with.

You finished packing up the duffle bags with any new equipment and prepared to leave for the case. George continued looking over any last scraps of information on the location while you fiddled with the hem of your jacket sleeve. "We'll be fine, don't worry about it" Lockwood said as he entered the living room where the team were waiting "We have everything under control, we're fully prepared, everything will be fine!" he shot everyone a charming smile and pulled on his coat. "If you have to repeat how 'fine' we're going to be, usually it means we won't be" George grumbled as you all left the house.

When you and Lucy headed off through your side of the warehouse, you instantly felt the temperature drop around you as you got further into the building. "Hear anything?" you asked Lucy, your hand resting on your rapier hilt, the hairs on your arm beginning to stand up "Crackling, I think? And faint screaming" "Oh lovely. Tonight is going to be a joyous." you sigh, eyes constantly looking around for any clue to a source.

Before you knew it, you heard the soft *brrb brrb* sound of your electronic watch. Half an hour had gone by already, and the warehouse was still bitterly cold. There was hardly time to head back to find Lockwood and George before the two of you felt malaise creeping into your bones, the rapier feeling heavy on your belt. "Lockwood! George!" Lucy called in a sing-song voice as you finally willed yourself to move from your position, placing down your duffle bag to retrieve your iron chain.

Not even a minute had gone by before the boys were by your side, but it felt like an age. "It's definitely over here, you can see the flame patterns all over the walls" you point out to them as you pull out a pack of gum, the awful smell of smoke and metal that had accumulated was starting to get to you. "Any sign of a source yet?" Lockwood asked but you both shook your heads "Right, let's get searching then."

It didn't take long for the visitors to make themselves known, which explained the suddenly heavy presence of ghost-fog and icy temperature. Just like you and George had suspected, there was two of them, both covered in horrible burns and peeling flesh. "What are you getting Luce?" Lockwood asked "They're angry, that's for sure. Nothing specific, just a lot of pain." Before Lucy could get anything more, one of the Wraiths dived for them, only to stop just before the iron chain that laid on the ground. Suddenly you realised you and George had subconsciously taken ahold of each other when the wraith charged, only to quickly separate from each other.

After some time fighting the visitors, rapiers dancing in the air and chains cutting through Other-light, George had finally managed to secure a source, but as he did the other Wraith charged at him. Without even a second thought, you pushed George out of the way of the visitor before it made contact. "Y/n! What the hell!" George screamed at you before seeing the ectoplasm covering your shoulder. "Shit shit shit. Lockwood! Lucy!" George cussed as he rummaged for a syringe in the closest bag to him "George please tell me we have adrenaline still" you groaned as you held your arm "Here! Hold still y/n" George said as he brought the adrenaline syringe over to you, panic and worry clearly present in his voice. George injected the shot into your arm and suddenly everything went dark.

When you awoke, it took you a second to figure out where you were, before slowly realising you were home, in your bed, back at 35 Portland Row. You sat up, looking over to your bedside table to notice a glass of water, painkillers, and a note 'Take these when you awake, I'll bring you some food at 12. George x'. You tried to stretch over, suddenly realising your shoulder and upper arm were completely stiff.

You slowly traipsed downstairs to the kitchen only to find George busying himself with the stove. “Hey” you said, though it came out as more of a croak “Hey, why aren’t you in bed? I was gonna bring you some food” George replied, a look of worry still present on his face “it’s okay Georgie, I’m fine” “You’re clearly not fine, y/n. You got ghost-touched. You need to rest.” The comment from George confused you. You don’t remember getting ghost-touched? “I don’t quite follow?” you let out a confused laugh, to which George let out a sigh and walked over to you. He hesitated at first, but then gently pulled aside your shirt collar to show your icy blue shoulder.

George's fingers were blazing hot against the skin of your shoulder. "Bloody hell y/n, you're freezing. Hold on, let me find out the hot water bottle" he said hurriedly, quickly looking through almost every kitchen cupboard before finding it. It was only then you quite realised how cold you really were, quickly rubbing your arms together to prevent shivering. "Here, this should help" he said with a pained smile as he handed you the filled hot water bottle and a cup of your favourite tea "Thanks Georgie... don't forget about the stove though.." you nodded towards the oven "Oh bugger!"

"Alright, here's a blanket, a fresh hot water bottle, and a hot chocolate. Do you need anything else?" George asked as he placed a tray with biscuits down on your bed, your fever caused by the ghost-touch had gotten worse as the day went by "Sit with me?" you asked, though it came out more as a whisper as you gave George a soft smile. "I-, uh-, yeah sure" George's cheeks began to grow pink under his glasses as he scooted onto the bed next to you.

The rain softly pattered against the window, which you were grateful of as it soothed your pounded head "Lucy told me what happened on the case, that I pushed you out of the reach of that Wraith" "mm" "I would do it again, just-so-you-know" you told him softly, your words mumbling together as you rested your head on his shoulder. Initially, George tensed up at the sensation, being someone who wasn't very touchy feeling or quite aware of his feeling for you, but he quickly calmed and leaned into you "I hope you never have to, the less I have to look after you the better" "You say that but you love looking after me really" you poke him playfully and shoot him a devilish, slightly delirious smile.

George let out a gentle sigh "No, you're right. You're kinda cute when you're sick" he said as you fiddled with the bed sheets, slowly taking one of your hands in his. You looked up to meet his eyes, which had completely surrendered to you "Just promise me you won't do it again?" he asked, his eyes scanning your face "Oh Georgie, you know I can't do that." His hand slowly reached up and brushed the stray hairs out of your face "No, I guess you've always been a bit reckless." Before your feverish brain could process what was happening, George cupped the side of your face and gently pulled you into a soft, gentle kiss. Your breath hitched as your lips parted, cheeks burning red "I-, I'm so sorry, I don't know what came over me-" George began to say but you cut him off "If you get ill now Karim, you can only blame yourself" you teased before you wrapped hands around his neck and pulled him down for another kiss. You couldn't help but smile into the kisses, his hands gingerly tracing over your bruised arms and hips, your fingers teasing as his curls, all of which was making your more dizzy than you already were. When the two of you finally broke apart, George looked almost as delirious as you felt, his lips puffy and hair slightly scruffier than usually, but with the softest smile he could've given you.

"For once, being ill might actually not be so bad" he chuckled.

[d0wnb4df0rf1cm3n]

lockwood & co. fic recs pt. 1

Make sure you check reading restrictions for each author. Please respect the writers!

mixed

lockwood & co headcanons → @justafandomgvrl Sharing a bed with them Warnings: none - it's a lot of fluff

marmalade and mischievous mornings → @gayandfairycore spending a morning in 35 portland row, regular shenanigans ensue between the four of you. Warnings: none - it's a lot of fluff

lockwood & co headcanons for valentines day → @justafandomgvrl Warnings: none - it's a lot of fluff

knock knock. who's there? → @klineinie Warnings: cockroach. it's all i can say

anthony lockwood

always → @vi-trying-to-survive Y/N overworks herself trying to solve a case and when Lockwood comes to get her to take a break, she loses consciousness. Warnings: None, this is just fluff and only fluff

my idiot → @vi-trying-to-survive Y/N, a medical practitioner’s apprentice, meets Lockwood in an unlikely way. The two quickly become close, which isn’t a problem. The problem is the fact that he has no regard for his own safety and always runs to her for help. Warnings: This is just fluff and a little angst. Also small mentions of bleeding and a stab wound

honey, i'm home → @callsign-mama The reader is caught dancing in stolen underclothes. Reader and Lockwood are not together at the beginning, but oh, they are at the end. Warnings: 18+!! You have been warned. Lockwood calls reader ‘honey’.

untitled → @teaandransackingWarnings: vulnerable Lockwood, softness, fluff, angst. General audiences.

lucy carlyle

untitled → @gay-dorito-dust Warnings: Nightmares, Mostly just fluff

dating lucy carlyle would include → @why-what-no Warnings: None

spellbound → @oblivious-idiot When one of Lockwood’s old friends joins the agency, Lucy can’t help but fall in love with her. Warnings: fluff, hurt/comfort(kinda?), kissing, mentions of cleaning wounds, Lucy realises she’s bi lol, and gets jealous of Lockwood

in the past → @frogmanfletch Lucy has a nightmare about losing you and has a chat with Lockwood in the middle of the night Warnings: Nightmares, Mostly just fluff

the c in concussion stands for cuddles → @hurtcomfortficstilltheend The aftermath of the screaming staircase case (Doubt Thou the Stars episode), Reader gets a concussion and there might be some cuddles involved. Warnings: ghost-fighting (brief), getting a concussion (feeling dizzy and confused), hurt/comfort and fluff (I know, very surprising).

sweet nothings → @oblivious-idiotWarnings: fluff, hurt/comfort, mild language

pining → @frogserotoninWarnings: so ooc, unedited, cringe

untitled → @givemea-dam-breakWarnings: mild language

george karim

love → @genieofthebooksWarnings: Mentions of illness, fluff, Reader shipping Locklyle, Reader calling George Love even though they are not together yet. Kissing. Reader is beautiful/pretty yet insecure so does not believe it. (You lot are beautiful)

a personal experiment → @callsign-mama The one where George knows more than he's letting on about how you feel about him. Warnings: 18+, SMUT/Teasing (in the sexual way)

the break of dawn → @oblivious-idiotWarnings: fluff, George receives a spicy kiss (quite literally), harmless flirting, and taking the piss (joking around) &lt;3

i need you → @genieofthebooksWarnings: Kissing, Mentions of blood, tears, sadness.

untitled → @gay-dorito-dustWarnings: none - it's a lot of fluff

kintsugi → @bippiti when you go searching for your cousin in london, you find yourself meeting someone you wouldn’t expect Warnings: bad families (mentioned)

the little things → @genieofthebooks The Little things that make George Karim fall in love with you. Warnings: Fluff, Pining idiots, Kissing

untitled → @gay-dorito-dust Warnings: Sick Reader, Fluff

[dulusionalapocaliose]

I desperately need crazy unhinged bossgirl woman and their pathetic man representation. And by that I mean intelligent, ambitious, unhinged, disgustingly educated but hyperfeminine, that knows how to fight magnifically and are mad science smart queens that would do what is needed to get what they want and need, and their husband/boyfriend supporting and following them around like lovesick puppies.

[oblivious-idiot]

OH MY GOD????

UM?? THIS WAS SO AMAZING!!

i love george fics so much and this honestly made me fall in love with him even more <333 i'm obsessed

Maybe You’re The Idiot

A/N: if I’m honest, I’m not really sure if I like this. it kind of feels all over the place, and I realised again that I’m not the best at writing enemies to lovers or kissing scenes lol if there are any typos, it’s bc it’s 5 am. @ the anon who requested, thank you so much, I hope you enjoy!

pairing: george karim x fem!reader

wordcount: 4.4k (what happened)

request:  I love everything you’ve written, I often go back to reread and I can’t get enough! So thank you for your works <3 if you can and are willing I have this in mind: George karim x fem!reader who’s joined l&co for a bit but George still hasn’t warmed up to her and she’s trying to prove herself to them to the point of recklessness. Lockwood Lucy who have been playing mediators and peacemaker are fed up with their arguing, claiming they would get along very well if they actually tried. They set them up so they can resolve their rivalry (prob forced proximity with them having to team up for a small mission) but first time is a disaster and from that you’re free to ddo whatever you like - by anon

taglist: @maraschinomerry @marinalor @oblivious-idiot @thedonutdeliverygirl​ (if you wanna be added/removed, just send me an ask :))

masterlist

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[g1rld1ary]

omg hiiiiii! just saw your requests opened, so excited! i was hoping you could write something for lockwood with the enemies to lovers trope. anything you feel like with that is awesome! and ofc if you don’t want to feel free to not write it 🩷��

-mel

what once was ; anthony lockwood x reader

➻ synopsis: you and lockwood hated each other, you had since you were just starting out as agents. when your team is made to work with his on a big case, deeper feelings might just get revealed

➻ word count: 10K exactly (what are the chances?)

➻ warnings: swearing, mentions of kissing, angst maybe?, injuries

➻ thank u so much for this request lovely!!!! i am SO sorry this took almost a month, but it's the longest fic I've ever posted here so hopefully that makes up for it a little?? if this isn't what u had in mind pls let me know and I'd be happy to write something different! ik it might not be exactly enemies to lovers but I hateee when the dynamic has no respect or reason to be lovers. anyway thank u for the request lolol!!!! xxxxx

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

You thought you were a good person. You dedicated your life to fighting ghosts, you helped old ladies cross the street, you recycled when you could. That was enough to be considered a good person, right? You were almost totally convinced, except for the all the vile things you had to say about Anthony Lockwood.

He was, with no exaggeration, the bane of your existence. You had known him all your life, but hadn’t been friends with him since you were both twelve, just beginner agents. And yet, despite all of this hatred burning up within you, it seemed like the universe wouldn’t give you a moment of peace.

You understood running into his company every once in a while — agency events, maybe the occasional case, but lately it seemed like it was every week you had to face Lockwood’s nauseating grin and infuriating attempts at being charming. Whether it was your respective teams being sent on overlapping missions, picking up more supplies or just trying to pick up a coffee after a draining night, you had started to see Lockwood everywhere.

When you saw him again whilst you were picking up some doughnuts for your team you couldn’t help yourself snapping at him.

“God, are you obsessed with me or something, Anthony?” You barely spared him a glance as you finished the transaction with the cashier, quietly thanking him as you left. Lockwood did the same, practically throwing down his cash to catch up to you.

“You wish I was obsessed with you! I am just as unhappy as you are, trust me.”

“So what, you chased after me just say something we both already knew? Or do you have something you’d like to say, an apology perhaps?” You chanced a look in his eyes. Hurt flashed through them, and you felt a sick sense of satisfaction.

“I’ve told you before and I’ll tell you again, I don’t know what you’re talking about!” He cried, almost dropping his own box of pastries when he ran a hand through his hair in frustration. You didn’t try to hide the rolling of your eyes.

“Whatever,” You huffed, before being struck with an idea. “By the way, did you hear that I’m now a team leader? That makes me the youngest in at least ten years — maybe ever. Pretty good for someone not fit to be an agent, don’t you think?” You feigned an interest in his opinion. His face dropped for a moment, then contorted to become almost polite.

“That was never—” You interrupted him with another sigh.

“Anthony, I really don’t care to listen to you discredit my achievements anymore.” You left him on the side of the street, marching back to your dorm at Fittes. You didn’t need to hear him tear you down and ruin your self-confidence more than he already had — not that you would ever tell him that. Lockwood was similarly disgruntled. Every interaction between you two turned into a fight regardless of what he said; he just couldn’t win.

You had a week of blissful distance from Lockwood and Co before you ran into them, quite unfortunately. You and your team had been assigned to an apartment that allegedly housed a few Type Ones, nothing serious but the residents had complained of hearing noises at odd hours. You held a bit of doubt — living in the dorms had forced you to become accustomed to the most bizarre noises at night, and those were most definitely not ghosts. Plus, adults tended to be paranoid; the noise could be anything from rodents to their little children being awake in the early hours of the morning.

Still, you had a job to complete, so you trudged your small team up to the apartment in question, ready for a quick job and to be cozy in bed before midnight. When Lockwood and Co were standing outside the apartment next to your appointed one, your face dropped into a scowl.

“What are you doing here?” You snapped, talking directly to Lockwood. He hesitated for a moment before turning to face you, brilliant smile shining.

“Lovely to see you again too, sweetheart, we’re actually here on a job? Nice of you to come as our clean-up crew, but that really won’t be necessary. Run along now.” You had to hand it to him, Lockwood had perfected his condescending tone. You were going to respond when the girl behind him began to talk.

“Hey, I recognise you! You’re—” Lockwood cut her off quickly.

“Alright, Luce, I think it’s time we go inside, don’t you?” He was shepherding the girl through the apartment door before you could process what was happening. George, to his credit, looked highly amused at the whole thing. You always liked George, even when he was at Fittes, and seeing him was usually the only upside to your interactions with Lockwood and Co.

“Who’s the girl?” You asked, nodding your head to where she and Lockwood had disappeared to.

“Lucy Carlyle,” He answered, “She’s a Listener — still learning the ropes.”

“And she knows me how?” George just smiled, and you could tell he was keeping secrets.

“I’m sure you’ll find out one day.” He began to follow the rest of his coworkers and you pouted.

“I hate when you side with him!” You called after him, before composing yourself and directing your own team to start the night. They just went along with it, used to your behaviour, and set up your equipment for the mission.

It was not going well. You could all feel a supernatural presence, but no ghosts and no signs of what you’d thought might’ve been the source. Plus, all you could hear was the apartment next door — their stompy footsteps, their laughter over the tea you knew they always had, and one of them wouldn’t stop knocking on the fucking wall.

It was supremely childish, and you would put all of your bets on it being Lockwood trying to throw you off your game. Unfortunately, it was working. And your bad mood was spreading to your teammates. The mission was certainly not going well, all four of you picking fights and throwing digs at each other as you searched uselessly for what could possible be the source, all with no confirmed supernatural presence.

Just as you were about to say something really cruel to your favourite member of your team, the words died in your throat. The temperature rose a few degrees, and you could practically see all your negative thoughts floating away. By the looks of it, your teammates all felt it too. When the freezing shock of the change wore off, you all resigned to embarrassment, realising exactly what had just happened.

This was only furthered when Lockwood waltzed into the apartment, cocky grin practically blinding you.

“Guess that another successful mission for Lockwood and Co now includes saving the careers of egotistical Fittes agents too now,” He crowed, and you rolled your eyes so hard you thought they might disconnect from your face.

“Clearly,” You tried to keep your tone level, “The source wasn’t in this apartment, so we couldn’t have found it regardless of if you were here.”

“Plus they were just Type Ones. You didn’t save any lives, Lockwood,” Your best friend, Sarah, piped up and you smirked.

“Maybe not in the physical sense,” He conceded, “But I definitely saved the career of the ‘youngest ever team leader’ — don’t think you would’ve kept the position for very long if you couldn’t fight a simple Type One.” You turned red in humiliation. How dare Lockwood act so high and mighty, like you owed him the career you fought so hard for? You wanted to express all the seething fury that burned your tongue, but the only thing that came out was a vicious declaration.

“I hate you, Anthony Lockwood.” Lockwood at least had the decency to look somewhat hurt. Although you’d been arguing for years with the insults only getting meaner as you both grew up and developed more precise vocabularies, neither of you had ever vocalised any hatred before. It cut deeper than Lockwood thought it would. You didn’t wait to observe the intricacies of his reaction, storming out of the apartment, making sure your kit bag hit him heavily as you passed.

“Well,” Lockwood broke the awkward silence that fell over the apartment, “I think we’re all done for the night. Let’s go.” Lockwood and Co began packing up their kit bags and gear, Lucy sweeping some leftover magnesium dust under an armchair. Lockwood paused in the doorway, looking back to Sarah with a curious softness.

“Make sure she’s alright, yeah?” Sarah nodded, swallowing a curious look. With a final nod he was gone, leaving the rest of your team to wonder what had just happened to shift the dynamic.

Back in your dorm at Fittes, you were still fired up. Pissed off by Lockwood’s ego, his audacity, you had practically already paced a hole in the floor upon your short return from dinner. All of these years and he still didn’t believe you were a capable agent, let alone team leader! You may not have really hated him; it was hard to truly hate someone who you shared so much history with, but you were glad you said it. Glad you hurt him, even a little. Maybe then he’d know how you felt.

He had — probably unwittingly — saved you arse though. It was one of your very first missions and unfortunately Lockwood was right; a team leader who couldn’t defeat a simple Type One, or realise that their case was a goose chase in the wrong apartment, wouldn’t last. So although he was the one who had told you you couldn’t be an agent in the first place, you probably owed your current position to him, which only mad you more mad. It was an endless cycle of being angry at Anthony Lockwood.

When Sarah came in to sit on your bed, you still weren’t done, taking the opportunity to verbalise your stream of thought.

“He is simply the worst person in the whole world and has no respect for me! I mean, he wouldn’t have helped at all if it didn’t serve his own inflated ego ,” You said, throwing your hands in the air in anguish. Sarah simply watched, barely concealing her amusement.

“Ok, but have you considered maybe he just argues back because you hate him? I mean, where did it start?” You huffed, vaulting yourself back onto your mattress.

“When we were twelve years old, he told me I couldn’t be an agent. I said ‘fuck you’ and have worked my bloody arse off to be one despite it, and to become the youngest team leader at Fittes, and yet every time I see him he still tries to sabotage my career or make me look stupid! God, he drives me up the wall!”

“So you’ve said all these horrid things because he didn’t believe in you?” She laughed a little, eliciting a deep frown from you.

“You don’t get it,” You said, tone solemn, “He was my best friend. He was supposed to believe in me even when everyone else said it was dumb.” The dampened mood brought a premature end to your conversation, Sarah leaving you to your thoughts and feelings as you dwelled on the past in a way you would usually forbid yourself from.

You pulled a framed photo out from behind your stack of books on the shelf. You and Lockwood as children, smiling brightly on a day at the beach, a spade in your hand and a bucket in his, your free ones intertwined as kids often do. You didn’t know why you’d kept it after all these years, looking at any photo of Lockwood typically made you mad, but you felt a bit guilty discarding the keepsake, especially the handmade frame his parents had given you one birthday before they passed. Plus, the memory untouched was one of your favourites — one of the last of your carefree days in childhood when you and Lockwood were best friends and both your families were whole. You held it softly for a moment, indulging yourself in being swept away by memories before deciding enough was enough and returning to the present, distracting yourself with a novel you’d picked up.

You were given a few weeks to cool down, blissfully free from any trace of Lockwood. You thought he must’ve been aware of the heightened tension between you recently, since you’d seen Lucy shopping around Arif’s and ran into George whilst getting your usual Friday night takeaway.

Hearing your name being called from around the corner of an aisle you turned quickly, reflexes on edge. Seeing it was just the redhead you relaxed, making yourself smile.

“Oh, hi, Lucy. How are you?” You made polite conversation, continuing on with your shopping. She replied cordially, a vague awkward air between you that you were both trying your best to overcome.

“We’re all really sorry about the case the other day, by the way. We didn’t mean to take it over or jeopardise your job or anything.”

“It’s nothing,” You assured, “I shouldn’t have let my emotions get the best of me, every agent knows that.”

“Yeah, but if Lockwood hadn’t—”

“Lucy,” You interrupted, “You don’t need to condemn Lockwood, or defend him. We both know where we stand with each other and that’s ok. I hope that doesn’t stop us from being friends either; you’re sweet.” Lucy managed a smile, revealing a pretty sparkle in her eye.

“I’d like to be friends too. Maybe we just won’t tell him,” She giggled, and you nodded gravely.

“Sounds like a plan.” You left Arif’s with a bag full of groceries and plan for coffee sometime.

George was less forgiving than Lucy. As you bickered over who got the last can of Coke in the restaurant’s little fridge, he imparted some of his very much unwanted advice.

“You should apologise. I think you crossed a line,” He said and you rolled your eyes.

“He questioned my right to even be where I am — I think I have the right to be pissed at him.”

“He didn’t mean it,” George said quickly. Almost too quickly.

“How would you know?” You narrowed your eyes. George recoiled — he’d been caught.

“You know,” He trailed off, “Lockwood’s not like that. You should know that better than anyone.” You huffed again, fed up.

“I knew,” You corrected, “He’s shown me exactly how he feels about me now. And I am absolutely fine with that. I’m taking the Coke.” You ended the conversation abruptly, snatching the can out of George’s grip.

“But Lockwood doesn’t like any of the other flavours!” He called after you. You exaggerated a laugh, not looking back as you opened the restaurant door quickly.

“I know!” You yelled over your shoulder. George watched you leave, calculating look in his eyes. You said you hated Lockwood, he didn’t doubt you believed it, too. But he knew that most people didn’t remember which fizzy drinks their enemies liked.

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

Thankfully, you got just the distraction you needed. Your team had been given one of the most exciting cases on the Fittes roster. One of those old boutique hotels with funnily named rooms and a long, terrible history that had you buried in fascinating research. You couldn’t believe your team had been given the assignment, it was a sign that you were really beginning to be respected as a team leader in the agency. So, you couldn’t screw it up.

You and your team had been practically camped out in the Fittes archives, researching as much as you possibly could about the old hotel. There were a smattering of unfortunate deaths across the years — some darker than others, but you were confident it was nothing you couldn’t handle. The owners hadn’t specified exactly what supernatural experiences they had seen around the hotel, just that it was clear there were several presences around and they wanted them all gone to reopen the hotel as soon as possible. This did admittedly make you a little apprehensive — you didn’t actually have a solid idea of how many ghosts you’d be dealing with, and it was anyone’s guess how many of them would be Type Twos.

Finally, you were confident you and your team had done as much research as you could, and you were prepared for anything. And so you packed your kit bags, took the train ride and rocked up to the hotel mid afternoon, confidence overflowing. By nightfall you’d been on a tour of the grounds, set up your base and had started brewing some tea to get you all in the zone. You took a glance out the front window, seeing movement in one of the windows of the house next door. It was owned by the people who ran the hotel and they intended to open it as a second venue, but delegated the job to some smaller agency since the stakes for it weren’t as high.

It was all going well for a while. You had a plan to go room by room, making each ghost free before finishing in the majorly haunted kitchen. You were inclined to believe there’d be a cluster of Type Twos there since it was set alight years ago, and the accident had been swept under the rug in favour of saving the business.

The entryway was easy; a few Type Ones that practically led you their sources, clearly just wanting to finally be laid to rest. There was one nasty Limbless that gave you all a fright, but your researcher, Ben, was always miles ahead of the rest of you and knew exactly who the ghost was and therefore how to put him to rest. You told him you owed him a beer later and moved on, crossing a single room off the floor plan and shifting into the library, which was not so easy.

You started to think things were not as great as you originally anticipated when you turned to face the mass of Type Ones. Not the end of the world, a little bloody annoying though. Sarah seemed to agree, kicking the leg of a couch in frustration. The four of you figured your way out of it, though significantly depleted of supplies.

You returned to your home base to recoup, physically and mentally battered.

“What’s the plan?” Sarah asked, chugging down mouthfuls from her water bottle. You bit the inside of your cheek as you thought hard, tapping your fingers insistently on the old wooden table.

“Alright, I think we’ve got enough for one more safely. Kyan, you go outside and get the rest of our equipment whilst we hit the second bedroom.”

“If we’re right then there should only be the one ghost there, right? The strangled woman?” You nodded in response to Ben, mentally drawing your plan.

“And if you’re wrong?” Kyan asked.

“We won’t be,” You affirmed, tapping twice on the table to get you all moving.

Kyan left the building to go fetch the spare supplies and the remaining three of you ventured into the second bedroom. Everything was as it should be; lower temperature, creeping feelings of unease and miasma. You’d put together your chain circle and were feeling good about the Type Two woman you were facing, well, as good as you could in those circumstances.

That was, until it wasn’t just one Type Two. Despite the research and preparation you’d undertaken, there was definitely more than one Type Two enraged by your presence in the room at that moment. There was the woman, an angry apparition of some sort — you didn’t have the time to exactly figure out which subtype she fell into when a man also appeared. Shit. He wasted no time showing you he was aggressive too, and your heart sunk into your toes.

Doing some quick mental calculations, you announced the new plan — to get out. As team leader, you refused to be responsible for an injury or something worse because you wouldn’t back down when you knew you didn’t have enough defences left.

“Soon as it’s safe, get the fuck out of here,” You said, feeling to make sure they were still both in the circle with you as you stood with backs inward. “Use your defences as liberally as you feel you need to — we’re all getting out of here tonight.”

“What about the sources?” Sarah asked nervously, “We’ve only got one or two so far.”

“Who cares? Most agencies get one or two a mission and we’re in a giant bloody hotel. We’ve got more nights to get this done. We can’t get it done if you lot go off and die, can we?” Ben shrugged.

“S’pose not. Let’s go.” With that the three of you made a run for it, bolting out the bedroom door and into the corridor.

“Oh fuck!” You yelled, dodging out the way of another phantom headed your way. Evidently your previous endeavours had attracted the attention of some of the other ghosts inhabiting the hotel, none looking all that happy.

Your swear words didn’t falter as you continued the escape, ducking and jumping and making an utter fool of yourself to ensure you all made it out alive. You’d been covered by Sarah a few minutes ago with one of her magnesium flares, and so returned the favour without hesitation, only faltering slightly when you realised it was your last. You tried not to worry about it too much, you were nearing the laundry where there was a back door you could get to.

The closer you got to your escape the fewer visible apparitions there were. That was a good thing, your chances of ghost touch reducing greatly. However, that didn’t mean you weren’t still being hunted. A poltergeist had found you somewhere along the way, and the stream of things being thrown at you hadn’t ended yet. You’d vaguely felt something heavy hitting the back of your head and shoulders, but the adrenaline pumping through your veins was withholding the pain for the moment.

You’d crossed the threshold into the laundry, the back door within your sights. Maybe you got complacent, believing the end was nearer than you thought. Maybe it was just awful timing. However, as your feet hit the tiles of the room, you were being swept off your feet by the washing machine sliding into you, crushing you between it and the wall. You cried out unintentionally, feeling a sickening crack inside your chest. Your teammates turned back, door wide open and safety in sight.

“Don’t you dare come back for me,” You croaked, the wind pushed out of you. “Or I swear to God I’ll come and haunt you.” Ben took the threat and ran, ducking out the door into the fresh air of the night. Sarah hesitated, turning back to lock eyes with you, regret painted across her features. With a final threat she left too, leaving you to try and push the machine away from you in order to make your own escape. However, in an unfortunate series of events, the adrenaline started to wear off after your chase and you felt the sharp pain running along your skull, a thick drop of blood making its way down from a strand of hair into your left eye. Plus, you were pretty sure the machine had broken one of your wrists as any pressure you put onto it trying to move the machine set your nerves on fire, leaving you just your legs to try and make an escape. Turns out it’s harder than it looks to push a stupidly heavy washing machine away from you with your legs when you’re incapacitated on the floor.

Seeing your best friend the strangled woman approaching you sighed, trying to resign yourself to your fate. There was no way you were making it out without a miracle, and you were never the lucky kind. As she spotted you, you sealed your eyes tightly closed, unwilling to watch your own demise. It never came. When you chanced one eye open all you saw was sparks, the unmistakeable smell of a magnesium flare filling the room. You didn’t know what to feel. Relieved, of course, pissed off that your team had disrespected your wishes and endangered themselves, faint from the adrenaline and blood loss. Mostly faint, you decided, as you lay your head back against the tile, a sleep sounding like the nicest thing in the world suddenly.

You must have passed out for a minute or two as when you opened your eyes again you were in the air, distant voices yelling over the explosions and lights, but you felt a million miles away. You cuddled yourself into the body of whoever was carrying you — they were warm and your body felt ice cold. Everywhere you looked appeared blurry (and slightly pink, presumably from the blood in your eye), so you granted yourself some mercy and simply closed them. You thought you heard a mumbled “Hold on for me,” But you couldn’t be sure, everything was ringing in your head and the weight of staying awake was heavy on your foggy brain.

The next time you woke up was about half an hour later, or so you guessed. The sky was fractionally lighter than you remembered seeing, inching towards dawn, and you were laid down on dewey wet grass. The cool of it was nice on your skin, though you knew it would do major damage to your hair. Not that that was your greatest concern at the moment. You pushed yourself up on your elbows slowly, looking around at the scene that was coming into focus. Your team were on one side of you, looking exhausted but mostly physically fine. Straight ahead of you was Barnes, not looking as disappointed as you thought he would after a failed case. To your left was Lockwood and Co. Why were Lockwood and Co here? Why was Lockwood looking at you so intently, and why did he look like he was worried about you?

Only the first of your questions was answered. Evidently Lockwood and Co were the ‘small agency’ the hotel owners had given a chance for the smaller house on the edge of the property. They heard the commotion your team had made and Sarah’s screaming outside the kitchen door and came to save the day — of course. You were about to put up the protest that you didn’t need saving but it died in your throat when you saw the serious looks of everyone around you. Clearly this wasn’t the time for any of your bullshit.

“Clearly this case is bigger than your team can achieve,” Barnes said, and the fire was reignited within you. He must have been able to see what you were going to say and cut you off, “But I’m not taking you off the case.”

“Thank you,” You said quickly, tension in your shoulders releasing slightly.

“Lockwood and Co will work with you until the hotel is ghost free.”

“What?” You and Lockwood cried in unison, and you felt his eyes fall back on you. You refused to meet his gaze.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Sir—” You started, being cut off by Lockwood.

“We don’t work well together—”

“I happen to know you both need this case, or do you not care about the future of your jobs?” Barnes raised an eyebrow in the intimidating way only he could pull off. He had you there. Failing in a case, especially one that resulted in a near death experience would certainly jeopardise your trajectory at Fittes, and, unbeknownst to you, Lockwood and Co were pretty desperate for some good representation, unable to receive the praise deserved from the Combe Carey Hall case. You looked at Lockwood to find him already searching your face. After a moment of silent arguing between the two of you, you turned back to face Barnes, exaggerated smiles on both your faces.

“We’ll do it.” You smiled sweetly. A few more formalities sent Barnes and the other DEPRAC officer off, and only the two teams were left standing around, shifting uncomfortably under the weight of all the kit bags.

“So what do we do now?” Sarah asked, a thought very similar to the ones bouncing around your head at the moment.

“Breakfast?” George suggested, and you didn’t think you’d ever seen your team agree to something so enthusiastically. The group of you all headed back to the train station, but Lockwood didn’t let you continue in the line to get your ticket. Instead he pulled you away from the crowd, seeming to have already told Lucy what was happening, judging from her cheerful wave goodbye.

You glared at him, yanking your arm away then groaning at the pain.

“What are we doing, Lockwood?” You asked with an exaggerated huff.

“We’re going to the hospital,” He said, unbothered by your protests. “And don’t say you’re fine because it’s clear you’re injured. I’d say a broken wrist, concussion and maybe a cracked rib, but we can let the doctors tell us I’m wrong, I’d be happy for them to tell you otherwise.” That shut you up, not least because you knew he was probably right. You’d been given a shot of adrenaline and a few painkillers by the DEPRAC officer who accompanied Barnes over, but you probably did need actual medical attention.

It was a very awkward cab ride to the local hospital. You and Lockwood were so used to arguing by now that silence felt like the only other viable option. You couldn’t make small talk, what would you even talk about? The only thing you knew about his life was his childhood, and you sure as hell weren’t gonna talk about that. The tension was palpable in the backseat, and when the cab driver wished you good luck for the hospital visit, you figured he didn’t just mean because of your injuries. You did force yourself to thank Lockwood when he paid for the ride though, even if it was just for the sake of the day moving on faster.

At least the waiting room created its own noise; beeping and chattering and footsteps filling the silence between you two. You struggled with the form in front of you, inconveniently having your dominant hand be out of working order. You painfully etched out your information over an embarrassing amount of time before Lockwood huffed loudly and snatched the clipboard from your lap.

“Fuck’s sake,” He muttered, pulling his own pen from his suit pocket, beginning to scribble down the answers for you. You just relaxed, your tired, drug-addled brain being allowed to rest for a moment. It wasn’t until he asked about your health insurance that you fully realised he was answering the questions by memory and forced your eyes to focus on the paper. Sure enough he’d gotten it all right, birthday and middle name included. You glanced up at him curiously, but it seemed like this was the moment he refused to make eye contact. You only had to inform him of things that had changed since you’d fallen out, neither of you verbalising that fact.

Things didn’t change when you were called into the doctor’s office either. The mix of pain, medicine and sleep deprivation led you to embrace the exam table and bordered on falling asleep as Lockwood talked for you. He’d gotten the rundown of the actual events from Sarah and his brief moments when he saved you, and explained the night as you got an x-ray for your hand. Plus, as you were waiting for the cast (it was, in fact, broken), he explained your previous medical history — the knee you dislocated when you were nine and the broken pinky finger from the year after. You only had to participate to explain the injuries you’d acquired during your career as an agent; the ones from after you and Lockwood stopped being friends.

The whole trip was extremely bizarre and slightly unnerving, and you were glad to get on the train on the way back.

“You were wrong about one thing,” You said, pulling out your walkman from your kit bag.

“And what’s that?” Lockwood asked, and you got the impression he was bracing to be yelled at again — you felt almost bad.

“No cracked rib for me.” You grinned, beginning to laugh uncharacteristically. You didn’t know why, it really wasn’t that funny, but Lockwood followed suit soon after. The two of you laughed borderline hysterically, much too energetic for that hour of the morning when everyone else was still heading to work. It only tapered off when your poor ribs couldn’t take it anymore (not broken but aggressively bruised), and the two of you fell back into silence. You had your music and Lockwood had a magazine you suspected he’d stolen from the A+E waiting room.

The only other time you spoke during the trip was when you summoned the courage to utter a somewhat genuine “Thank you.”

“What?”

“Thanks. For not letting me die. And stuff.”

“Oh. You’re welcome,” Lockwood shot you a smile, the glowing kind you rarely got to see anymore.

As you got back to London and closer to Portland Row where your team was waiting, the air seemed to get thicker between the two of you once again. Maybe it was the proximity to the things that had torn you apart or the sense that you had predefined roles to play, but the carefree air between you had dissipated, leaving only the familiar tension that had been building over the last four years.

You followed Lockwood inside, trying to hide the out of body experience you were having returning to his family home after so many years. It had changed a little, of course, but still felt overwhelmingly the same, which both scared and comforted you. All the freaky foreign ghost hunting objects still littered the shelves, and you took the liberty of admiring them once again, remembering the stories Lockwood’s parents would tell about them and the adventures they’d had when collecting them. In your periphery you saw Lockwood hurriedly grab something off the wall by the stairs, shoving it in a drawer, but you really had no interest, choosing instead to reacquaint yourself with the house. The glimpse you got up the stairs showed a myriad of framed pictures of Lockwood and you scoffed — of course his ego would be on full display within his own home.

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It was surprisingly easy to get into the groove of working with Lockwood and Co. Obviously you already liked George and Lucy, but your team seemed to work unexpectedly well with theirs. You and Lockwood stayed out of each other’s ways, the few times you were left to work together resulting in another stupid argument. The first time when you thought he was calling you dumb, the second over something minuscule; who’d let the tea brew too long so it tasted shit. And then who had to subsequently get up and make the next pot. Despite both of you honestly trying to be professional and get on with the job, it was agreed by everyone that it was simply easiest to keep the two of you apart as much as possible.

However, when the hotel owners wanted the leaders of both teams to meet up for updates on the case, you couldn’t get out of it. The day wasn’t looking good. You’d shown up to Portland Row so you could get a cab together — the meeting being dinner in central London, and had already argued with him over his choice of socks. In your defence, the powder blue socks matching your dress did make it look like you were a high school couple trying to match at a formal! However, George had rolled his eyes and pushed the two of you back out and towards the waiting cab, effectively ending that argument. You’d also teased Lockwood for bringing his rapier to a business dinner, but that was neither here nor there.

You’d held it together for most of the dinner, both of you putting on your best fronts and using your most formal tones to convince the elder couple that you were confident about the case. You found yourself kicking his shins to stop Lockwood from making promises you couldn’t keep regarding the case, and he got you back with condescending remarks, correcting you when he disagreed with how you presented the case. Altogether though you thought you were pretty subtle, and the two of you were presenting a model image of your respective companies.

However, when you shot Lockwood one of your saccharine smiles under the pretence of friendliness — he’d just undermined your authority again and stolen the best piece of dessert that you were going for, as if he didn’t torture you enough — you were shocked to hear the woman across from you laugh.

“It’s so wonderful to see you two bicker like an old married couple,” She giggled, and both you and Lockwood’s jaws dropped. “I mean, it just seems so dismal to be dating in these times, but you two give me hope that the future generations will still be able find love despite the Problem.”

“And clearly you’re both sensible kids, which is very important for a lasting relationship. Working for two different agencies would surely diffuse tensions around all those dangerous missions and such you agents partake in — except for this one, of course,” Her husband chimed in, jolly glint in his eyes.

“Yes, yes, but it’s important to remember to be kids as much as you can. But you two playing footsies all night has proved that you’ve got that covered too. Silliness is just as crucial as being sensible, it’s how a marriage stays fun. We would know, we’ve had fifty odd years of it!”

You didn’t know how to react, and by the looks of it, Lockwood didn’t know either with his signature smile frozen on his face. First of all, you were not playing footsies with Anthony Lockwood — the bruise forming under his trouser leg was testament to that. Second of all, you had no idea how the woman could get your dynamic so incredibly wrong. Aside from all of Lockwood’s double edged comments and cocky corrections of basically anything you said, the two of you had hardly addressed each other directly all night, you might as well have been strangers!

The dinner wrapped up very soon after. The couple had taken a liking to you both and so trusted your teams to handle the case as you saw fit, only making you promise to take a romantic weekend getaway (or honeymoon! As the woman had remarked optimistically) to the hotel once it was completely ghost-free and renovated. For once you were glad that Lockwood was unable to ever shut up as he took the lead, seeming to believe that corroborating their assumption was the best choice in your situation. You weren’t sure you were entirely comfortable with lying to this sweet old couple, but you couldn’t deny that Lockwood was a better talker than you, and would probably handle the situation with more delicacy.

That was how you ended up being led out of the restaurant with Lockwood’s hand on the small of your back. You wondered if he’d ever done this before, and you didn’t know if you meant for a real or pretend relationship. You both said your goodbyes to the couple, flattered by the abundance of compliments they paid you — both personally and professionally, assuring you they were overjoyed to have your teams work the case. Just before they stepped into the cab the woman took you aside.

“Hold onto a boy who looks at you like that,” She said, “You might fight, but when he’s this in awe of you, you’ll find a way to make it work.” You didn’t know how to respond to that and so simply nodded, offering a weak smile as she slid into the back seat of the taxi.

That left you and Lockwood alone. You just looked at each other for a moment, unsure of how to proceed.

“Do you mind if we walk home? I really fancy some air right now.” Lockwood easily agreed, looking rather flustered himself, and off the two of you went into the night.

Neither of you spoke for a while, but you could tell he wanted to. Lockwood always chewed his lip when he was holding something back, he had since he was a child. You sighed and asked him, knowing it was the only way to make the habit go away.

“Nothing,” He said, “Just weird. Don’t you think?”

“Nah,” You lied, “Old people just say things like that all the time. They don’t care to know the full picture.”

“Which is?”

“We hate each other.” Hurt flashed through his eyes, but it didn’t make you feel as good as it did the first time you’d said it.

“I don’t hate you,” He said quietly, almost a whisper.

“What?”

“I don’t hate you. We don’t get along anymore, but I don’t hate you. I hope you know that.” You faltered for a second. Had his use of ‘anymore’ been intentional to create a stabbing feeling in your gut?

“Oh. I guess I don’t really hate you either, if we’re getting sappy about it.” You tried to diffuse the tension growing between you, not wanting it to evolve into a discussion about what estranged you in the first place. Lockwood refused to apologise and you refused to forget, resulting in the bitter stalemate you’d been locked in for the past few years.

Your distraction came with a glance over Lockwood’s shoulder, and the wisp of a phantom coming into view. Lockwood was trying to continue the conversation about your developing relationship, but stopped when he noticed you frozen beside him. Turning slowly he swore when he saw the ghost, going straight for his rapier.

“Put your hand into my coat pocket,” He said, effectively drawing you from your freeze.

“Excuse me?” You whisper-yelled, not in the mood for him to try and lighten the mood with whatever dumb joke he was trying to make.

“Just trust me, I have flares in the inside pocket, just reach in and grab them to defend yourself whilst I keep an eye on them.” Them? You wondered until you looked around, seeing other ghosts start to emerge from the shadows, attracted by the scene you were obviously creating. You wasted no more time, ignoring the intimacy of reaching into Lockwood’s jacket, grabbing yourself a flare for each hand. With you accounted for, Lockwood told you the plan, he’d fight a path back to Portland Row and you’d cover the both of you with the flares, since you weren’t good for very much else with a broken wrist and no rapier.

It was hardly the most intense situation you or Lockwood had been in, but as the primary fighter in the situation, Lockwood was still putting up a good show of skill. Despite yourself you were entranced, admiring the graceful way he moved with the rapier, so in tune with it you’d think it was connected to his arm. As much as you hated Lockwood — well, you’d just established you didn’t actually hate him. As much as you thought he was egotistical and irritating, you had to admit that you really admired him as an agent. Lockwood was undeniably talented with a rapier — it was the fencing competition that got him started in this business in the first place — but to watch him in action was really something special. If you didn’t know better you’d think it was easy for him, he fought with the same ease and elegance he might drink a cup of tea.

You were so caught up in watching him that you hardly noticed when you arrived in front of 35 Portland Row, both luckily un-ghost touched. You were also alerted to the proximity you’d found yourself in. You’d stayed close obviously, not wanting to be left to the ghosts, but when Lockwood had turned to make sure you were still with him safely inside the iron fence, you found yourself only inches apart.

At this distance you were alerted to just how much he’d changed since you were kids. He was taller, obviously, your chin tilted up to make eye contact. He’d lost the baby fat that used to fill out his cheeks, leaving his face defined and bordering on gaunt — you figured he wasn’t taking very good care of himself, judging on the dark circles that seemed by now permanent. Plus something had changed in his eyes. He didn’t look carefree anymore, something dark and tortured lay behind the charming smiles. It wasn’t hard to guess what it was, and you figured you probably had something identical. However, the small scar on his jawline from when you accidentally flung a plastic toy into his face was still there which drew a small smile from you. Something within you urged to run your finger along it, and you felt your fingers twitch before you realised how inappropriate it was. That instinct didn’t feel so bad though when you caught Lockwood’s gaze shift down to your lips. Only momentarily, but you saw it. And worse? The fact that you didn’t mind. After all of these years and the fighting and terrible words shared, here you were maybe about to kiss Anthony Lockwood. You would be disgusted with yourself if you didn’t have so many other feelings fighting their way to the top.

The front door opening was enough to make you both jump apart, you rushing towards it to get as far from Lockwood as possible.

“Hey Lucy!” You called, practically floating up the front steps you were going so fast.

“Uh, hey, guys. We thought we heard you outside so I got sent to check. Had to make sure you weren’t secretly making out or something,” She joked and you forced out a laugh, far too loud to be real.

“As if! Come on, I’m dying for some tea.” You slid past her, rushing straight to the kitchen for a minute to think.

Lucy watched you go suspiciously, before turning to Lockwood.

“What did you do?” She interrogated, all her scary Lucy-ness coming out.

“I don’t know,” Lockwood replied earnestly, still somewhat dazed himself. Lucy gave him one last look up and down before returning inside, leaving Lockwood to fix his smile on before rejoining the two teams.

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The week leading up to your team’s next attempt at the hotel was extremely weird. You and Lockwood hadn’t spoken about what had happened (or almost happened) out in the front garden, but you had had a long talk about your behaviour lately. Over a few cups of tea in the kitchen whilst the rest of your teams were working down in the basement, you managed to both admit you were being dickheads. There was no mention of the underlying factors of your resentment, but you both agreed for the sake of your jobs you would try and be friends, or at least civil. No more bickering, no more picking apart small comments, no more rolling eyes.

It worked for a bit, which was really complicating your emotions. On the one hand, Lockwood was lovely, like he’d always been, and it was kind of nice to be able to talk and joke with him again after so many years, although you both carefully avoided the topic of your personal lives. On the other hand, it made you sad to pretend that everything was fine when you knew what you did. He didn’t think you could be an agent; Lockwood didn’t think you were good enough. And you could both pretend all you liked to be friends, but as long as that was what he thought about you it could never be real. So, while you’d both stopped your rivalry on the surface and gotten on with the case, there was a tension bubbling behind your smiles that both of you could see whenever you locked eyes.

It all came to a head when you started discussing your action plan for the hotel. All seven of you were standing in the basement of Portland Row, staring at a blown up floor plan of the place, little figurines representing each of you. It didn’t take you long to realise that you weren’t being represented.

“Where am I?” You asked, an uneasy silence falling over the room.

“You’re not coming.” Lockwood took the fall, even though it had been a unanimous decision whilst you were on an Arif’s run one afternoon.

“Excuse me?” You couldn’t help the biting tone in your words, fury you’d worked hard to conceal bubbling back up to the surface.

“Your wrist—” Sarah tried to reason, but something in you had unlocked and you were not backing down this time.

“You and I know full well if this was a Fittes case I would still be out in the field, broken wrist be damned,” You spat, and you could practically see the gears turning in Lockwood and Lucy’s heads.

“They make you go into the field injured?” Lucy asked, but you weren’t focused on answering her — George nodded for you.

“So who’s barred me from being in the field, on what I might remind you, was my case first.” There were a few moments of silence where no one wanted to be the subject of your anger, but with a resigned sigh, Lockwood accepted the blame.

“It was my idea.” You couldn’t help the frustrated groan that came out of your mouth.

“God, this is so typical! You’ve never thought I was good enough, and now what? Sabotaging my cases? My career? Because you don’t believe in me,” Your voice broke on the last sentence, and you could feel the tears heavy behind your eyes, threatening to fall. You spat a final “Fuck you,” before running up the basement stairs, up to where you knew the bathroom would be for some privacy.

You realised when you were at the top of the stairs that in your time working with Lockwood and Co you hadn’t actually used their bathroom, and didn’t remember which of the closed doors it was. Choosing one blindly you shut yourself inside, finally letting the tears that blurred your vision roll down your cheeks.

You sobbed heavily, indulging all the terrible feelings you’d been concealing for far too long. When the tears weren’t so frequent the setting around you came back into focus, and you noticed with a start you definitely weren’t in the bathroom. The view from the window told you it was Lockwood’s late parent’s bedroom, but the used furniture and messy bed said someone was still living there. Your stomach dropped as you stood, wiping the tears from your eyes. Looking around you were sure this was Lockwood’s room, the suit jacket on the desk chair a dead giveaway. However, a picture frame on his nightstand attracted your attention the most. It was the same one you had in your dorm at Fittes, the one gifted to you by Lockwood’s parents for your birthday. Both of you grinning widely and carelessly joyful. It had been so long since you’d felt like that, even longer since you’d felt it around Lockwood. The thought made your heart ache a bit. His parents would be so disappointed in the two of you. That made you start crying a little again, picking up the photo to examine it closer.

“It’s been there since you left,” A voice from behind you said. “I couldn’t bring myself to put it away.” You hadn’t noticed Lockwood come in and you didn’t know how long he’d been standing there. You put the photo down with a start, turning away to wipe your face dry again.

“Go away, Lockwood. Just give me a minute and I’ll be back downstairs. I overreacted but I need to get over it, okay?” You snapped, praying your face wasn’t still red and splotchy (it was).

“No,” He said, and you turned to face him curiously. “Look, this has gone on long enough and we need to fix things.” You crossed your arms petulantly, a silent challenge for him to fix the damage you believed to be all his. “You said downstairs that I thought you couldn’t be an agent. Why?”

“Don’t you remember when I told you I wanted to be an agent like you?” You scoffed, “You all but laughed in my face! You said I couldn’t do it, that I’d be injured or killed and I couldn’t handle it. I’ve thought about that every case since, you killed my self esteem for years. I thought that if no one else, my best friend should have believed in me. But here I am, youngest team leader at Fittes with the highest successful case rate for my division. All in spite of you.” Lockwood stared at you, and you could practically see his neurons firing and making connections at a million miles an hour.

“That’s not what I said.” You could barely contain your bitter laugh.

“Does it matter? You didn’t believe in me, that’s what’s important.”

“No,” He said, “Because that’s not what I meant at all. I did believe in you — I do. I always have.” You scoffed again as he stumbled over his words. A little grovelling now couldn’t make up for all the years of anxiety and insecurity he’d caused.

“I mean it! If I didn’t believe in you, then what’s all this?” He led you to one of his dresser drawers. Opening it there were a stack of papers and you picked a few of them up, flipping through them. Every single one was about you. Photos from your childhood together, newspaper clippings of your successes throughout the years, the magazine article you interviewed for talking about women in power in the ghost hunting field. Lockwood had saved every piece of media about you, the ragged edges showing he’d ripped them out just to keep them. You remained silent, astonished by this new revelation. You looked up at him, and Lockwood could have cried at the look in your eyes.

“I didn’t say you couldn’t be an agent,” He explained, “Or that’s not what I meant. I meant that you shouldn’t, or more clearly, I was saying don’t. Asking. Don’t you remember? My parents were dead, my sister had just died. You were all I had left, and I didn’t want you to jump head first into the most dangerous job in the world. I wanted to protect you.” It was Lockwood’s turn for his voice to break and tears to arise, and you suddenly felt supremely stupid.

“Oh,” Was all you could say. After all of these years; the insults thrown and dirty looks exchanged, all your anger came from a misunderstanding? Not only that, a misunderstanding that twisted such an earnest declaration of care into something so awful.

“But you did it, and you weren’t just any agent,” He laughed slightly despite his emotions, “You were the best bloody agent Fittes has ever seen and all I could do was watch from the shadows and be proud of you silently. Why do you think Lucy knew who you were already? There were pictures of you all over the house before I made them take them all down when I knew we were working together. I didn’t want to scare you off.”

“But all the arguing…” You trailed off, still unable to completely process this information.

“Just because I love you doesn’t mean you don’t drive me up the wall, especially when you were being — or I believed you were — deliberately obtuse to my efforts to explain myself. But now I see we were just on totally different wavelengths.” You were really struggling, there was a lot of new information being revealed at such a rapid pace that was completely changing your perspective on your whole adolescence.

“You love me?” Lockwood did laugh this time, loudly and with the same charm he usually had.

“Yes, you idiot. I have since we were kids.”

Oh. Oh. You suddenly felt like an idiot. All of this time you thought that Lockwood believed you were weak, not good enough, not worthy of your successes, when in fact it was the complete opposite. And then you thought about how you felt about Lockwood. How his believed lack of faith in you affected you so much because you cared so deeply about what he thought of you. How you could never bring yourself to look away when he was fighting because he was so completely in his element. How nice it had been to be able to joke around with him during your research. Oh God. You thought you simply respected him and his skills as an agent, but evidently the truth had been just out of reach your whole life.

“Anthony?” He was already looking at you, eyes searching deep into your soul. “I think I might love you too.” Neither of you could help the kiddish smiles making their way on your faces, and he wrapped his arms around you tightly before you knew what was happening. It felt nice to be held by him again, the last time would have been after his sister died. These were much better circumstances.

When you both came down the stairs later, no one mentioned your intertwined hands. You all had a lovely dinner at Portland Row, warmth and laughter filling the space and making you feel at home like you used to when you were a kid.

It wasn’t until you were on your way back to the Fittes dorms that Sarah leaned over to you, mischievous grin on her face.

“Tell me you were making out up there, please,” She giggled, and you shoved her away lightheartedly.

“Shut up,” You laughed, “Besides, it wasn’t making out.”

[starzortega]

I want to request Anthony Lockwoodxfem!reader, where Anthony meets the reader and immediately falls for her, but she doesn't notice because she's very socially awkward. Also, she is Inspector's Barnes niece, so they always meet each other after a case when DEPRAC shows up. Lockwood always flirts with her, but she doesn't think his being serious. When she calls him Lockwood, he tells her to call him Anthony. That surprises George and Lucy, and they tease him for it. The reader is also starting to fall for Anthony , but she doesn't think he could ever like her back. The reader and Lucy start becoming very good friends, so she's around Portland Row a lot. After a case goes wrong, Anthony is injured, and the reader gets mad at him about being reckless. They get into an argument, which leads to an angry confession.

Stars upon the face

Masterlist

Warnings: a lil bit of angst and mention of being st!bbed

Word count: 689

Pairing: Anthony Lockwood x fem!reader

A/n:Thank you so much for this request!! I didn’t do the whole request as I’m really new to this but I hope you enjoy it <33

I’m really sorry if this is bad!! This is my first fic ever!!

Feel free to send in more requests <3

————————————————————————

“Please look at me” Lockwood voiced, staring at Y/N.

With tear-rimmed eyes, she looks over her shoulder meeting his eyes, breathing erratic.

“Was it worth it Lockwood? Worth almost dying” Raising her voice anger lacing her words as she turned back around and walked through into the kitchen.

“Listen, I had it under control. I would've been fine.” he grits his teeth, holding back a breath as he leans against the kitchen counter.

Stepping towards him, Y/N snorted “Really? Well if you had it under control we wouldn’t be in this situation right now!! I mean look at you, you were stabbed, Lockwood. Sometimes I feel like you go in harm's way on purpose” Her voice wavers, tears streaming down her face.

His face softens lightly, They’d known each other for almost a year, meeting after a case that went terribly wrong yet again.

She had been with her uncle Inspector Barnes when the team of Lockwood and co staggered out of the Combe Carrey Hall. He was angry. Really angry. Uncle Barnes after a bad day often vented to the young girl about the troubled trio, saying they were dragging Fites through the mud, employing people who didn't have the right grades, practically making Barnes’ job more difficult. Much to her uncle's dismay, Y/N began harbouring a small crush on the determined Lockwood even though she had never even spoken to the boy. Walking over to the group that just walked out of the Building with her uncle, Y/N stood giving the trio an apologizing look as her uncle shouted at them she kept her head down embarrassed by her uncle's frantic. Since that day, Y/N kept bumping into them after cases or even just out stocking up on salt bombs often stopping and chatting to them for a while. That was until one day Lucy offered for Y/N to come back to their home Portland Row for a cup of tea and biscuits. I mean how could you say no?

Now, it being almost a year since Combe Carrey Hall, they have all gotten close. Portland Row felt like Y/N's home she was there practically every day, always staying too late so she’d bunk with Lucy in the attic.

“So what’s going on between you and Lockwood?” Asked Lucy one day, she was led on her stomach looking up at Y/N.

“What do you mean?” She replied, confusion written on her face.

“Come on, you don’t see it? The way he looks at you isn’t the way friends look at each other.”

Y/N shakes her head “We’re just friends I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You think that?” Lucy raises her eyebrows

“Well.. yes he doesn’t like me like that.”

“Well, what do you feel for him? Do you like him?”

Y/N's face flushes red “Well er I think so? anyway change of topic I don't feel like talking about it anymore”

————————————————

“Lockwood, I'm just looking out for you. I know you’re just trying to protect Lucy or George but please just think about how I’d feel if something bad happened to you. I need you, Anthony.” Her voice cracks, Sobs emitting from her mouth. Lockwood grabs her wrist and pulls her to him, wrapping his arms around her waist and letting her wet his shoulder.

“Lockwood I don’t think you understand how much I need you here I don’t even know what I’d do if-“

“Hey, I’m here. I'll try. I promise I’ll try to be less careless, okay? I’m so sorry dove.”

Lockwood pulls back their faces close together, their eyes lock looking at each other with pure love.

Her eyes move from his eyes to his lips and back to his eyes again, parting her lips ever so slightly.

Lockwood moves one of his hands to cradle her face.

“Can I kiss you?” Whispers Lockwood, smiling when Y/N nods vigorously bringing her closer to slot their lips together.

Their lips move in a synchronized rhythm only parting when they run out of breath.

“I really like you.”

“I really like you too.”

[awriterinthenight]

My Masterlist

Harry Potter

Harry Potter

Ron Weasley

George Weasley

-"I love you, you know that"

-"I think you look good in purple"

Fred Weasley

-"I might even be in love with you"

Percy Weasley

Cedric Diggory

Percy Jackson (show and book)

Percy Jackson

-"W-what, y-you love me"

-"Now I have to reapply my lipstick"

Luke Castellan

-10 Things I Hate About You Au, Part 2

-"I Have What?"

-Stolen Ring, Part 1

-The Kissing Booth

Connor Stoll

Leo Valdez

-Nyx Reader Headcannons

-Apollo Reader Headcannons

-"They're better than you"

-"I don't know, how are you, Repair Boy"

-"I'm so sorry, Amor"

-"What'd she say to you"

Grover Underwood

The Umbrella Academy

Five Hargreeves

-"You're All I Need, Love"

-"I think I love you more"

-"Is anyone else joining?"

Klaus Hargreeves

The Maze Runner

Thomas

Newt

-"You're bloody brilliant" part 1,

Mihno

Lockwood and Co.

Anthony Lockwood

-Valentines Day Headcannons

-"I'm Sorry"

-"I'm Lockwood"

-"Aren't you a bit young to be a doctor"

-'It's ok love' Part 1, Part 2

-"I'll be less reckless, I promise"

-Super Fluffy Headcannons

-"You Look Cute Flustered"

-"I knew you would be friends"

George Karim

-"For some of the smartest agents, we were quite stupid"

-"You're the most perfect person ever"

Gilmore Girls

Jess Mariano

-"Is this real?"

-"You'll Have To Play Something For Me Sometime"

-"See you tomorrow night"

Headcannons

Hogwarts Houses

Slytherin

Hufflepuff

Ravenclaw

Gryffindor

PJO Cabins

Zeus

Posedion

Demeter

Artemis

Apollo

Hephastues

Dionysus

Aphrodite

Athena

Ares

Hermes

Hades

-Hades Cabin Headcannons

Tyche

Nemesis

Extra Masterlists

-Rom-Com Au Masterlist

[adhdduckie]

lockwood and co masterlist !!

full masterlist (multi-fandom)

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

lockwood and co

george karim

nothing

lockwood

i. I hate how much i love you- lockwood x fem!reader or quill kipps x fem!reader

(will have alt endings with kipps and lockwood)

↪ lucy and lockwood through the eyes of you. your best friend of five years prefers lucy carlyle, and no matter how hard you try, you can't find it in yourself to hate her. she's sweet and kind, and you see the way they look at each other. you didn't know the extent of how much he prefers her, though. you find solace in the one person you don't expect, quill kipps.

quill kipps

i. I hate how much i love you- lockwood x fem!reader or quill kipps x fem!reader

(will have alt endings with kipps and lockwood)

↪ lucy and lockwood through the eyes of you. your best friend of five years prefers lucy carlyle, and no matter how hard you try, you can't find it in yourself to hate her. she's sweet and kind, and you see the way they look at each other. you didn't know the extent of how much he prefers her, though. you find solace in the one person you don't expect, quill kipps.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

requests are open!!

[saltwaterburns]

I've just stumbled upon the absolute most admirable, alluring, angelic, appealing, bewitching Lockwood & Co. fic on ao3 i'm going mad. absolutely feral. Gnawing and howling.

[maraschinomerry]

Dinosaur Plasters

Pairings: George Karim x fem!reader (can be read as platonic or romantic)

Summary: Years after being forced to say goodbye to your best friend, you join Lockwood & Co and one of the members seems awfully familiar...

Content: childhood friends reunited, emotional goodbye, misunderstandings, small mentions of blood, one instance of mild bad language

A/N: inspired by finding some cute heart print plasters I forgot I bought and immediately deciding George would be the clumsy kid who needs his own personal first aid kit

Word count: 3.6k

Taglist: @neewtmas @marinalor @ettadear @honey-with-tea

As a child, from almost as soon as you could walk, your mother would take you to the park near your house every week without fail. This was nothing particularly special as most children in the town, situated on the outskirts of London, ended up there at some point in their youth. You were unusual, though - your favourite was not the swings, nor the roundabout, nor the huge wooden climbing frame. In fact, it was not a part of the playground at all. It wasn't even the duck pond. Your favourite part of the whole park was the sprawling patch of woodland at the back of the playground. Only the most inquisitive children dared venture beyond the treeline, and even then many turned quickly back to the safety of daylight when faced with the gloom of the towering, tightly packed branches. Anything could be lurking in the darkness, and all it took was one unfounded rumour of a mysterious figure for it to become almost completely neglected. You didn't believe the stories, and actually thanked them for giving you uninterrupted access to your own personal den: a clearing a little ways further in. The first few times you visited, your mother accompanied you to make sure it was safe, and the two of you had gathered fallen branches to build a makeshift hut which still stood to this day. After that, she was more than happy for you to go alone, especially since there was no risk of you falling foul of any other children.

You were six and a half years old the day it happened. The call of the woods took you from your mother's hand as she veered towards a bench with her book, and you raced excitedly through the trees. The path to your den was second nature by now, and you allowed your attention to flicker to the intense scent of a fresh patch of wild garlic as you wove between the trunks. The edge of the clearing coming into view spurred you onwards. You didn't see the twisted root which had been uncovered by the weekend's storm disturbing the dirt around it. With a yelp you pitched forwards, body following the momentum of your outstretched foot and the other one yanking you back to where it had caught under the obstacle. Thankfully the force of your fall pulled it free, saving you from a sprained ankle, but your outstretched palms skidded roughly across the ground and something sharp and painful dug into your right leg below the hem of your shorts. When you pushed yourself into a sitting position and dusted off your hands, you winced at the droplets of blood forming in a sort of lattice on your grazed knee, a couple having already been left on the rock you'd collided with. This was supposed to be your safe, magical space. This wasn't supposed to happen. Your lower lip trembled as your vision grew blurry.

"Whoa, are you okay?" a small voice asked from behind. Frantically blinking away your tears, you looked up at an equally small and rather owlish boy, haloed against the soft rays filtering through the trees by a mass of black curly hair. In reality, he probably wasn't staring that widely, but the absurd thickness of his glasses magnified his dark, worried eyes to almost comic proportions.

" 'm fine," you sniffled, trying to tame where your hair had fallen out of its pigtails.

The boy moved further into the light, peering anxiously at your knee. Now you could make him out more clearly you could tell he was about your age, dressed in a vibrant orange coat and blue jeans and with the straps of a backpack fastened across his chest. "That looks sore," he frowned, nodding to where the droplets had merged into a thick red pool.

"I think it's not bad underneath, it just stings."

"I can fix it, if you want."

"Like a doctor?"

He nodded enthusiastically, unclipping his backpack and rummaging through the front pocket. "Yep, I'm going to be Doctor Karim when I grow up!"

It sounded so professional that you couldn't help but trust him as he found what he was looking for: a green pouch and from within that a thin white packet. He tore open the packet and pulled out a wipe which he pressed to your knee. It was cold and damp, and gave a biting sensation which made you draw breath in a hiss through your teeth.

"Sorry," the little doctor mumbled. "What do you want to be when you grow up?"

"Oh, I'm going to be an agent." Your Talent had been apparent from the beginning and your mother had been trying to gently prepare you for the inevitable. Perhaps that was why she was comfortable letting you go off into the woods alone - you were quick enough to sense any threats and sensible enough to run from them.

"Whoa," the boy said again, this time drawn out in awe. "Well you're really really brave so you'll be a good agent." He gave you a bright, gap-toothed grin. The sharp pain disappeared from your skin, and he stuffed the now pinkish wipe back into its pack before taking out a large plaster. A hint of bluish colour was visible through the wrapper. That was odd, all the ones you had at home were plain skin tone. He peeled and pressed it to your knee with mastered ease, and you glanced down to see a square covered in blue and green triceratopses.

"Thanks, you're already a very good doctor."

He grimaced, pulling up his sleeve to reveal a slim rectangular plaster of a stegosaurus on his forearm. "I get lots of practice. Mummy says I'm like a baby giraffe."

You giggled, picturing him wobbling about. "We match!"

He helped you to your feet, watching intently how you placed your weight on your injured side. "Yeah, now we can be dinosaur buddies!" He paused, expression growing serious. "Is your mummy or daddy in the park? I can walk back with you."

"My mummy is." Your father wasn't in the picture. You glanced towards the path and thought about heading out of the woods, about your mother taking you home immediately to check over you, of saying goodbye to your new dinosaur buddy and maybe never seeing him again. You turned back into the clearing. "I'm okay, I can stay. Do you want to see my den, Doctor Karim?"

"Yes please!" he grinned. "And my proper name is George."

You took his hand and led him into the hut. "Mine's (name)."

—

Nearly 18 months was spent with you and George at one another's houses on every given opportunity. After emerging from the woods you'd managed to get both your mothers to meet and they got along well enough for regular play dates. Quietly, they were relieved the two of you had finally found a proper friend.

"Mum, can George come round for tea?" you asked one evening, bounding into the kitchen. Your mother was putting the finishing touches on a chicken pie she'd made, face flushed from the heat of the oven and apron covered in flour.

"Sorry love, not tonight. Brian's coming and we're going to have a family chat." Brian was her partner of almost a year. He lived in the Midlands, and came to visit whenever he wasn't working or you two would go up to see him. He was a great guy and you loved how happy he made your mother, but you were still disappointed to be kept away from your best friend.

"Family chat? About what?"

"Patience," she chuckled, "he'll be here soon, it wouldn't be fair to leave him out, would it? Just stick with us on this and then you can go and see George after tea, deal?"

The family chat turned out to be more of an ambush than a chat. Brian had proposed, and you were all going to move to his place up north. Immediately. Your mind was reeling.

What about school? As if the concept didn't exist outside of London.

I thought you wanted me to join one of the big agencies. A weak argument at best; you'd been adamant from the offset that you'd rather join a smaller, more personal operation.

Are you selling the house? Of course she was, otherwise the move would really just be an extended visit.

You were running out of ways to avoid the inevitable. A cold weight settled in your bones as for the first time in your life all the fight left you. You finally voiced it, the words coming out quiet and cracked, "But that means I have to say goodbye to…" You couldn't bring yourself to finish.

Brian glanced over apologetically as your mother laid a gentle hand on your arm. "I know, love, I'm sorry. We'll wash up, you go and talk to him."

You were in tears by the time you reached the Karim household. George's father answered the door, and by the pitying look he gave and the way he invited you in without questioning your emotional state, you knew your mother had already told both his parents.

You trudged up the stairs, every step harder to take than the one before it as they led you closer to the hardest thing you'd had to do in all your eight years. Maybe if you never reached the top, you could pretend it wasn't real, that you'd never have to face such a definitive ending. But that wasn't how it worked, and you steeled yourself as you reached the landing.

George was laid on his bed reading a comic when you nudged his door open. The moment he saw you, he shifted upright and rose to meet you. "What's wrong?"

"Brian proposed to mum."

"Oh." He knew how well you got on with the man. "That's a good thing, isn't it? Why are you sad?"

"Because we're going to move in with him."

"But he lives hours away."

You nodded slowly, resolve crumbling against his confusion. How else were you supposed to break it to him? Tears began to form again, and the sinking realisation dawned across his face. "You're leaving?"

The dam burst, and you collapsed onto his bed with a sob. "This weekend."

He sat down next to you with a sigh, crushed expression all the more apparent when he took his glasses off to wipe them angrily on his T-shirt. "It's not fair!" His anger subsided. "I don't want you to go."

"Me neither." You scanned the room, taking in the stacks of books, the cartoon posters on the wall, the half-drunk glass of orange juice on the side table. Looking everywhere but at him. It was the only way to stop it from hurting.

"It'll be okay. You can come and visit whenever you want, we can have a sleepover. Mum and dad say my big brother can't have a girl stay in his room, but you can stay in here if I ask nicely." He was trying so hard to be optimistic, you couldn't bear to tell him otherwise. It would be easier for him if he thought you were coming back. It would be easier for you if you could pretend he was right. You nodded shakily, wiping your eyes as you held your arms out. He buried himself in your shoulder, and you clung to him as though you could give him a lifetime's worth of hugs in one go. When you let go, you quickly stood and moved to the door before he could react to follow. You turned back with an unconvincing smile.

"Bye bye, George. See you soon."

—

London was just as busy as you remembered it. You hadn't been back even once since you left but now, stepping onto the bustling platform, it felt like only yesterday. But it wasn't. It had been many years, enough for you to grow up, join an agency and become a fully trained agent. Oh, if only George could see you now.

You'd thought of your best friend a lot since you parted ways. There had been other friends in that time, sure, but none you connected with as well as him. A small part of you wondered if he was still in the city, if you'd find him again by chance or by design.

A taxi took you from the train station to Portland Row. Word of the famous, or infamous, Lockwood & Co had spread throughout the country and you knew as soon as you read about the odd little agency, spearheaded by its namesake and the incredibly talented Lucy Carlyle, that it was where you wanted to work. Small enough to be what you'd always planned on, but big enough to give you the right opportunities. You'd written to Mr Anthony Lockwood and he'd invited you for a sort of interview. With the sun beaming down, you crossed the iron line and knocked confidently on the door. A shuffling sound preceded the clicking of the lock, and as the person inside revealed themself your breath caught in your throat.

Before you stood your childhood all grown up. Light brown skin, unruly black curls, dark eyes shining behind much thinner glasses, orange checked shirt. George. You faltered. This was too good to be true. It couldn't be true. Could it?

The boy peered at you curiously, and the hopeful part of your brain almost convinced you there was a spark of recognition in his eyes. Oh my god, it's you. I can't believe you found me. I never stopped thinking about y-

"Can I help you? Miss…?"

You snapped back to reality. He was still peering at you. "Oh, um, (last name)." His expression dropped a little, and your heart sank. He didn't recognise you after all; it wasn't him. It had been so long, it didn't occur to you that the name you gave, which you and your mother took from Brian after the wedding, wasn't the one George had known you by.

"You're here for the interview. Come in."

The boy led you into a cosy sitting room, where people you recognised as Lockwood and Carlyle were deep in discussion. They looked up when you entered and smiled.

"Ah, Miss (last name), welcome," Lockwood gestured to one of the sofas for you to sit. "Thank you for coming, it's an honour to have our agency so in demand. I believe you mentioned in your letter that you've heard of my associate? Lucy, meet (name)." The girl, Lucy, gave a friendly wave, which you returned. The other boy had disappeared, and you fought the urge to look for him. It would be weird, he wasn't your friend, he was a total stranger. That total stranger, as if summoned by your thoughts alone, returned with a tray of tea and handed you a cup. "And of course," Lockwood continued, "you've just met George." You almost choked on your tea. It wasn't possible. Of course it was, George was a common enough name. But to look so much like your George? Still, he hadn't recognised you. He'd forgotten all about you. Or perhaps he was choosing not to acknowledge you, that was how much it had hurt him when you left. How could you possibly say anything to remind him of that pain now?

—

Those first few days at Lockwood & Co were the most beautiful torture. You grew more certain by the minute that the boy who met you at the door was your George as the memories of his little quirks and habits came flooding back. The way he wiped his glasses when he was annoyed. How he couldn't always make a 'th' sound. His slightly messy handwriting. But it had also been so many years that things had changed, just enough that you couldn't be absolutely certain it was him. It wasn't like you could ask, either. You'd ruled out talking to him about it that first day, but you hardly thought you could approach your new colleagues and ask "is it possible that the boy currently roasting a skull in a jar is my long-lost childhood best friend who doesn't seem to remember me or care that I'm back?" All you could do was be grateful that you had him, or at least a semblance of him, back in your life.

You were on your way up to the attic room you shared with Lucy when a loud banging ahead made you pause. Tiptoeing onto the landing, you found the source of the racket: George, in only an oversized T-shirt, pounding on the bathroom door and drowning out the roar of running water within.

"Come on, Lockwood!" he yelled, slumping his forehead against the door with a thud. Your George had done that once when you locked him out of your room. He'd taken the last piece of cake from the kitchen and you'd stormed off in a sulk until he headbutted your door enough for you to let him in, where he promptly presented it to you because he'd taken it to share.

The water continued.

"Anthony John Lockwood, stop hogging the shower or so help me god!"

The water continued.

Glowering, George stormed past you and down the stairs. You began to follow, intrigued by what he had planned. Seconds later, you heard the squeak of the kitchen tap, and seconds after that a shrill yelp came from the bathroom.

"You're a bloody dick, George Casper Karim!"

Oh god. It was him.

Butterflies exploded in your stomach and fireworks in your chest as you raced down the stairs to the kitchen. George was nowhere to be seen, but a stack of papers had appeared where he normally sat at the table. You moved closer. On top was a brochure about Fittes. You pushed it aside to find CV templates, an article about one Quill Kipps, a news clipping about Marissa and Penelope Fittes, a stapled sheaf entitled "application form". You slumped into the nearest chair in disbelief. You'd finally got confirmation that a miracle had occurred and brought your best friend back into your life, and he was preparing to leave it all over again. This must have been how he felt. It was unbearable. Not much wonder he was acting like he never knew you if this was what you'd done to him.

"Whoa, are you okay?" that oh so familiar voice came from the entrance to the basement. George was at your side in seconds, one hand on your back and the other clutching worriedly at your arm as you tried to suck in enough breath to fill the hole in your chest.

"It's nothing," you lied.

"It doesn't seem like nothing. Did something happen? Are you hurt?" He traced down your arm to your hand, feeling for a cut or bump.

Every feeling you'd been holding back finally burst free in a helpless cry. "You're leaving! I just got you back and now I'm going to lose you all over again! I can't believe I put you through this, it hurts so much and not in a way that Doctor Karim can fix."

The hand in yours stilled and he took a sharp, juddering gasp. You turned nervously, terrified of how he might be looking at you. The face you found, incredibly close, was soft with amazement and as close to crying as your own.

"It's really you," he whispered.

You squeezed his hand, your lungs slowing with relief. "I didn't think you recognised me, or didn't want to remember."

His hand stayed in yours, and the other wiped away your tear. The brimming of his own tears had fogged up the bottom of his glasses. "Why wouldn't I want to remember you? You meant… mean everything to me, and when I heard your name I hoped it was you, always knew you'd make a great agent, but then your surname was different and you didn't seem to know me so I started doubting myself."

"Sorry," you mumbled. "We took Brian's name."

George chuckled lightly. "And, what, you figured I was mad at you for leaving and that's why I didn't say anything? (Name), I know it wasn’t your choice, and even if it was I'm not going to risk you walking away, I can't lose you again." His thumb rubbed tenderly across your cheek, but you averted your gaze to the documents on the table.

"But you were planning to leave."

He followed your gaze. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry. I've had these forever, I just put them out when Lockwood's winding me up. Drives him up the wall to think I might quit."

"I know the feeling."

He laughed, then suddenly jumped up and ran out of the room with only a "wait there" shouted back over his shoulder. You frowned, puzzled. Moments later he returned, shoving the papers to the other side of the Thinking Cloth and replacing them with a thin off-white rectangle tinged with blue. A dinosaur plaster.

"It's stupid, but I've been saving this ever since you left. No more hurt, right?"

You picked up the plaster with a smile and pulled him into a hug that you thought you'd never let go from. He pressed a quick kiss into your hair as he leant in.

"Not unless you're there to patch me up, dinosaur buddy."

[oblivious-idiot]

George and fem!reader gets separated from Lockwood and Lucy after a case (deprac having to intervene and Barnes holding Lockwood back), it’s almost dawn in the city and they are craving pizza before going back to Portland Row…pretty please ? (Love your writing !!)

The Break of Dawn

AN: This was such a cute prompt, thank you! I've had a cold this week so this might not be the best, but I hope you enjoy <3

Warnings: fluff, George receives a spicy kiss (quite literally), harmless flirting and taking the piss (joking around) <3

Word count: 1.2k

Pairings: George Karim x fem!Reader

When you started the investigation of a case that evening, you weren't expecting to find it swarming with Fittes agents half way through the night. Typically, Lockwood had managed to pry the intel of the case from a Fittes agent and so decided Lockwood and Co would be working on it - though he didn't care to tell you or George. When the Sources from multiple Type Two Visitors had been secured, you weren't exactly surprised to see countless DEPRAC officers and Inspector Barnes waiting outside for you all, and oh boy he did not look pleased.

"We had no idea it was a Fittes case Inspector," George says, hands indicating the two of you in his statement "Lockwood and Lucy clearly didn't feel the need to fill us in" his eyes giving your two teammates cold glares. The Inspector had been laying on his disapproval pretty thick, but he was surprised when you and George had admitted your lack of intel towards the case. "So Lockwood, Carlyle, you're trying to tell me that you didn't inform half of your team on your illegal plans?" Barnes huffed out "I hate to admit it Barnes, but both George and y/n really didn't know, it was all my idea" Lockwood finally let out, as he straightened his back and gave a look as if to say he'd been shot down.

After giving you all a stern warning for giving him more work to do and messing with cases that didn't belong to you, he insisted on keeping Lockwood and Lucy behind to talk about the case, as it was the biggest one you'd all faced yet - plus Lockwood was the one responsible for any paperwork. You and George were free to go, and you can't say you were going to complain. The two of you were absolutely exhausted from the case and quite frankly needed some time away from Lockwood and Lucy gawking at each other.

You'd really began to fall for George, though you weren't sure you could admit it to him yet. The two of you had become really close over the past few months, especially since the both of you shared a love for learning about the Problem, and George had begun to love when you made tea for just the two of you while you researched together. You both spent so much time joking and taking the piss out of each other (but mainly Lockwood) that it was hard to tell if you were flirting or not. Spending time alone together outside of the pressures of work were rare but one of your favourite things. This morning fell into the category.

Dawn was breaking, which meant that curfew would be ending and businesses would be beginning to open up. In the more recent years since the Problem there were many restaurants and take-out places that would open shortly after sunrise, meaning that if you were really hungry after a case, there would be some hot food with your name on it somewhere.

"The sunrise sure is pretty this morning" George sighed out as the two of you walked through Hyde Park, the horizon a magnificent array of reds, pinks and oranges. You looked over at the sky before glancing back to him "Yeah, it really is. Good thing we both look like shit so there isn't any competition" your voice was completely deadpan but a cheeky smirk tugged at the edges of your lips "I think I look rather dashing, considering I'm lucky to be alive" George joked as he motioned to at his disheveled look with a pleased expression, his curly hair flying in almost every direction. You pushed at him playfully and you both burst out laughing, then suddenly out of nowhere your stomach lets out the largest growl which sends you both into uncontrollable laughter. "I'm starving. You like Italian food right?" George asks with a soft smile "If you mean pizza, absolutely."

It wasn't a secret that George knew a thing or two about food, so of course you trusted him when it came to finding somewhere to eat that morning. Practically dragging you down the narrow side streets of London, George finally stopped outside his favourite pizzeria which you both regularly visited, letting go of your hand that he hadn't realised he was holding all this time. "Ah, George! Y/n! What can I do for you two lovebirds, the usuals?" called the owner of the pizza joint who was leaning against the doorframe, giving George a wink before smiling at you. George got a little flustered and you were growing pink in the face "That would be great Steve. A cheese supreme and a veggie volcano, cheers" the owner nodded and disappeared back inside, chuckling to himself. "Funny how he knows our orders now, we don't come here that often, do we?" You say as the two of you wait outside the restaurant "Almost every week, at least. You do really love pizza y/n" he laughed in response, giving you a soft smile, his eyes locked to yours. The two of you only broke away from the gaze when someone walked past, George straightening his back and letting out a flustered chuckle "Head home after this and watch a movie?" he asked "Is that not a given at this point?" you replied with a smile.

After eating a few slices of pizza, the two of you headed back to 35 Portland Row, leftover boxes in hand. Luckily you weren't too far from a main road so it was easy for you to hail a cab down to take you home. You both piled into the taxi, spending the journey back mainly in silence but your two bodies close enough that you could feel the warmth from one another.

Amongst the books and endless knickknacks in George's room, he kept a small collection of movies for his VHS player and tv. When the two of you got cleaned up and changed into something comfy, you both piled onto the bed, last few slices of pizza in hand. Even though you fought scary ghouls on a daily basis, George wasn't the most fond of scary or action movies, but he was willing to watch them if you were there - not that he would ever tell you that of course.

"Do we have to watch Terminator again?" George groaned when you picked out your movie, which made your head whip around just as you took a bite of your pizza "Georgie, you're not trying to tell you don't like Terminator, are you?" you raised an eyebrow at him "well, I, it's just that we've seen it like 15 times now y/n..." You turned around to face him as you sat on the bed next to him, your hand on your heart and mouth agape to portray your hurt. "George Karim, I cannot believe you would hurt me like this, you know how much I love this movie!" "Well we have plenty of others to choose from, don't we?" George teased, smiling at you as he leaned in towards you, his lips softly connecting with yours as if it was a normal occurrence. You didn't quite process the kiss until he pulled away, maybe because you were so tired. George lifted his fingers reaching up to touch his lips "y/n, what did you eat? My lips are on fire" his confused look just sending you into fits of laughter "that would be from the chilies on the pizza Georgie."

[meianslo]

Too Late

Anthony Lockwood x Fem!Reader

warning: pure angst, second option reader, asshole lockwood :'D

word count: 1.2k

disclaimer: this isn't the best one i've wrote bc i probably forgot that i even wrote it but im just gonna post it anw hueheu

<3

(name) was walking on the pavement that leads to 35 portland row, the home of her best friend, Lockwood. Lucy had invited her to come to his house after not going there for almost a month now.

She started being friends with Lockwood just a few years ago before he even started his agency. (name) was a family friend but they got to knowing, and just clicked with each other. But for her, it was more than just being friends... or best friends. He was so much more than that to her. But she knows he'll never return the feelings.

Anyways, feelings aside, (name) has become great friends with his agency's members even though she is not a part of it. She was so excited for him when he hired his first assistant. But she remember that it didn't go that well for em' but luckily, he's now ended up with George and Lucy.

Which brings us back to (name), wondering why Lucy had invited her.

Finally arriving at the house, she knocks on their door and waited for a few until George opened up the door and greeted her.

"Hi, (name). Lucy told me that she's expecting you?" she nodded at George's confusion. George knows that only Lockwood invite her most of the times but, even if someone else did invite her, it was probably Lockwood's request (it was a demand..). And Lockwood is currently out of the house. He let her in and asked her if she wanted some tea.

"Yeah sure, that'd be lovely, Georgie." She gave him a small smile of appreciation. While waiting for the tea, (name) went up to the attic to talk with Lucy.

"Lucy? You here?" (name) shouted as she's climbing the stairs before Lucy appeared behind the railings. "(name)! You came!"

"Of course I did, you asked me to, silly. What kind of friend would I be if I didn't?" (name) chuckled as she finally took the last step of the stairs. "So, what's up? Why'd you ask me to come?" Lucy took both her hand, pulled her and sat her down on her bed. This made (name) smiled and just went along with her.

The brown haired girl sighed and look down on her hand. "Lockwood just asked me out a week ago," (name) smile dropped "That's great, Luce!" (name) put her smile back but this one was more forced.

"I rejected him, (name)-"

"What? Why?" (name) was so confused, Lucy liked Lockwood back. So, why did she reject him?

"I- I don't know, I just did! I started rambling about how work is a pressure for me and all — I barely remember what I said-" Lucy sighed loudly. "I panicked.. I like him, (name). I do but, I don't know what came over me. And now, there's tension all over the house!"

As much as she wished that she's the one that's getting asked, (name) know better than that will ever happen. So, she give Lucy some courage to talk to Lockwood and explain herself.

"Lucy, you have to tell him or you'll regret it." What (name) didn't know is that she might also regret encouraging Lucy, but she knows it's for the better. "Well, I'm gonna go downstairs. George is probably done with the tea," She stood up and headed for the stairs

"Alright, I'll catch up with you later!" Lucy exhaled and lay back into the bed, chest feeling heavy.

<3

"So, why'd Lucy invite you over?" George questioned. He set down the cup of the in front of the girl and sat down in front of her.

(name) took a sip and pick up the pen that is Infront of her and starts doodling on the thinking cloth. "It's nothing, just Lockwood and Lucy things, y'know?" George just shrugged at what she said. They suddenly heard a noise coming from the front door, it's probably Lockwood struggling to open the door.

George just stood up and went to the hallway to open the door for Lockwood. "Hey," Lockwood greeted him and headed for the phone.

(name) peeked through the kitchen to see what's up with Lockwood especially after getting rejected. "Anthony?" she revealed her presence and Lockwood turn to her.

"(name)! I was just about to call you, guess that'll save me some time."

"What's up? Need anything?" (name) played dumb about the fact that Lucy rejected him, trying to not break his heart.

"George, can you..? Need some privacy." Lockwood smiled thinly. George just pushed up his glasses, nodding and went back to the kitchen. Lockwood walked closer to her, five feet apart from each other.

"(name).." His gaze shifted, It's not how he usually look at her. He was looking at her with much more passion and (name) realized what's gonna happen and..

"No. Lockwood, no." She blurted out and this confused him.

"What? I didn't even say anything-" He steps closer, this made (name) take a step backward.

"I know, Lucy told me."

"I like you, (name)."

"No, you don't."

She refuses this because this is not good.

"I- Please, (name)."

"Lockwood." This surprised him, because she rarely ever calls him that. "You like her, not me. Her. And I've liked you since forever but that doesn't mean I'll accept you just because I happen to be your option!" she scoffed "You decided that you like me because Lucy rejected you, right? You're being desperate and I know you're better than that. I'd rather reject you than just be a second option for you, Anthony."

The boy sighed and massaged nose bridge. He muttered. "This is my second regret, now."

"What? Are you serious? Wow, did you really just said that? Do I really just become your second regret? Be fucking serious, Lockwood." There it is again. "You're actually admitting that I'm just becoming your second everything at this point. I'm fine not being your option at all because it'd mean I wouldn't have to hope anything from you."

"(name), I didn't mean that! I'm so sorry — I'm just being dumb and-"

"Yes, you are being dumb! And I'll just let it slide because I know what you're going through." She swerved around him and went for the door. She hesitates for a second but finally reach the door's knob.

Just when she was about to turn the knob, Lucy called out to her. "(name)!" She stood at the top of the stairs. "(name)?" she repeated looking a bit more confused. Lucy bit her bottom lip and glanced at Lockwood for a second before looking back at (name).

"Lucy.." Lockwood muttered under his breath. (name) can hear how hurt he was in his voice but it didn't excused him for what he just did.

After turning around for a second to look at Lucy then Lockwood, the heavy hearted girl knows to leave them alone and let them talk it out. (name) turn her back to them again, "Thanks for the Invite, Lucy. Tell George I love the tea.." She finally turned the knob and head out of the house.

<3

When (name) was finally far enough from the house, she sat on the kerb of the pavement. Breaking down into sobs, fingers running through her hair. She buried her head into the palm of her hands, getting them all clammy.

She didn't know whether or not this is her fault.

Because she was too late. She thought that if she had confessed sooner, maybe this wouldn't happen to her. Maybe, her heart wouldn't have to be crushed into pieces.

a/n: this almost become rusty because i forgot i have this in my draft

[ynbabe]

Lockwood & Co. X Fem!Reader:- Incorrect quotes pt.2

Y/n: Die. Lucy: Please don't die! Y/n: DIE! Lucy: PLEASE DON'T DIE! George, confused: Why are they yelling at a plant? Anthony, watching while eating popcorn: They bought it cause I told them to stop fighting and Lucy wants Y/n to accept it as their kid. George: ... Anthony: Y/n wants to co-parent.

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Y/n: You know guys, sometimes I feel like Lucy doesn't like me much. Anthony: "Like"? George: "much"? Y/n: George: Change that to 'at all' and we'll talk.

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

George: Why did you kidnap Lucy!?!?! Anthony: Ah- um- well- the reason for that is, uhh... Y/n: Sometimes, we must work together towards a common goal. George: NOT TO KIDNAP PEOPLE FROM DEPRAC!

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

*Everyone is playing a board game together* Anthony: I will put 'A' down to make 'A'. Y/n: I will add onto your 'A' to make 'AT'. Lucy: I will add onto your 'AT' to make 'RAT'. George: I will add onto your 'RAT' to make 'BIOSTRATAGRAPHIC'. Lucy: *flips the board*

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Lucy: What is it called when you kill a friend? George: Homicide. Anthony: Murder. Y/n: Homiecide.

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Y/n: Subs are so fun to play with. All you have to do is hint at what you might do, back them into a corner with a look, or grab their wrist in a certain way and they're a wide-eyed mess. Anthony, professional denier: What the fuck kind of Subway are you going to? Lucy, did not the dots yet: Substitute teachers deal with so much shit. George, brain cell haver: Guys.

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

*In a horror movie situation* Anthony: I've got no service in my phone here. Lucy: Shoot, I don't have a phone. Y/n: Sorry guys, I just broke my phone with a rapier. George: Guys, my phone is a book.

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Anthony: Knowledge is knowing that a tomato is a fruit, and wisdom is not putting it in a fruit salad. Lucy : That's deep. Y/n: That means that ketchup is a smoothie. Lucy : That's deeper. George: ...You guys are idiots.

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Y/n on the phone after going missing for a year: Hey, I'm gonna come there, kick Anthony’s door in, and let him know that I'm baaack. George: That ain’t the way we do things here. You may have to go in there and run a con, apologise, and do the smooth-talking. Y/n: Okay, you come in with me, you do the smooth-talking, let’s go. George: No, we can’t go in there and kick down the door, that's how I introduced the two of you. We need a plan. Y/n: Well who makes the plans? George: Me. Y/n: Okay, what's the plan? George: You are gonna come here, kick Anthony’s door in, and FUCKING APOLOGISE FOR DISAPPEARING, YOU PSYCHOPATH.

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Anthony: What's the most efficient way to burn calories? Lucy: Exercise more Y/N: Set yourself on fire! George: There are two kinds of people.

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Anthony: Everyone synchronise your watches. Lucy: I don't know how to do that. George: I don't wear a watch. Y/n: Time is a construct.

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

George, trying to get them to stop fighting: You know, We give Lucy flowers when she's down. Y/n: Okay. *Later* Y/n, see's Lucy laughing: *Reminds her of all the bad things* *gives Lucy flowers* Lucy, hyperventilating: ??? Y/n: I don't know, I'm confused as well.

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Anthony: I told Y/n to grab snacks for everyone. Lucy, looking through the options: Why did you grab fruit snacks? Are you five? Who even likes Fruit Snacks? *Anthony, Y/n, and George raise their hands*

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

George: You’re just being paranoid. Again. Y/n: When have I been paranoid? George: Um, when you first met Anthony you thought he was a murderer…? Y/n: No one falls in love with me without having problems, I thought he was trying to lull me into a false sense of security! George: And last week you were sure Lucy was in a fight club! Y/n: She keeps trying to fight me! COINCIDENCE?! George: YOU THREW DAGGERS AT HER WHEN YOU FIRST MET *Later, when Y/n’s theory is proven wrong* George: Do you have anything to say for yourself? Y/n: I still think Lucy is in a fight club.

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Anthony, about to do something stupid, points to George and Lucy: Distract them! I'll be right back! *leaves* Y/n, suggested the something: Okay! *five minutes later* Anthony: *returns and sees George and Lucy unconscious on the ground* What did you do? I said distract them, not knock them out! Y/n: There's just no pleasing you sometimes.

[lady-ashfade]

New neighbor

Lockwood and co x fem!reader.

Characters: Anthony, lucy, George.

Plot: The team meets a new neighbor and falls immediately.

This is really fluffy and kinda a crack post, I honestly just wanted something funny between the team.

Warnings: Spelling mistakes, love stroke idiots. The reading being innocent and sweet.

The house was quiet, the team doing their own things by themselves. Lockwood was in the library reading, he found it almost peaceful and he needed a break. Lucy was in the addict looking through some boxes of her things, she needed to organize her clothes. Then there was, George.

George was on the kitchen floor scrubbing the floor to shine, the whole house smelled like cleaning products. Every dish was washed, each nook and cranny was clean. He was wearing gloves and his apron because he took cleaning very seriously.

The boor bell rings.

Upon hearing the ding George looked up and then at himself, he wasn’t getting up. “Lockwood! Someone’s at the door.” He screamed for his friend to hear. Lockwood sighed and put a book down and got up from his chair and made his way to the door. Maybe it was a new client.

The boy grabbed ahold of the doorknob and twisted it open and revealed who was he behind, and to his surprise made heart flutter. Standing at his front door was a lovely girl with a kind smile, she was very attentive and she looked so soft. Almost too cute for the charming boy to handle.

“Hello, how can I help you?” He threw on his most charming smirk. She looked at him and didn’t flutter, “Yes, hello! I just moved next door and wanted to greet my new neighbors, with something special.” Lockwoods gaze followed her as she bend down and he saw a wrapped basket, along with a few others.

“Just a few baked goods inside, I also listed everything on a note inside of all the ingredients so if anyone has a allergy that can know.” She picked up the pretty basket and held it out for him to take. She was thoughtful.

He could smell the sweets from here and he wanted to opened it but that would be rude, so he took the basket out her hands. “Theses are lovely, would you like to come in-”

“Who’s at the door?” They both turned around to see a boy walking closer to them, gloves and curly black hair. George looked up and locked eyes with the girl and felt his heart flutter. She seemed to have that affected on people. “Um, hello. Who are you?” He sounded so dry and rude.

Lockwood looked back at her, “Forgive him, as I was saying would you like to come in.” As lockwood spoke George came to the door and looked at the basket in his hands confused. The girl noticed his confusion and giggled a bit.

Their eyes widen at you coving your mouth and the sweet sound coming out. “I just moved next door, I wanted to meet the new neighbors so I brought bake goods- With a poorly wrapped basket.” She looked a bit awkward at the last part and rubbed her arm.

“And your name?” George asked. “Y/n.” She held out a hand for him to take but they both realized he had on gloves. “A wonderful name- George can you take this into the kitchen.” Lockwood shoved the basket into his hand and tried to make him leave.

“Why me?” George shouted a bit. “Because I said so, I am your boss-” he was cut off. “Don’t you dare give me that, you just want me to leave.” The girl looked between the two as they continued to have a small argument.

“What’s happened now.” Y/n looked passed boys and saw a cute girl with short hair at the end of the stairs. The girl looked back at her and smiled, walking over to the door. “Oh, I understand.” Lucy offered y/n a apology smile.

“Boys, that’s very rude to fight in front of someone new.” She scolded them and they rolled their eyes. “Lucy by the way, sorry for the boys. They have no manners.” Y/n laughed at her comment.

“No worries, I actually have to deliver some more of theses baskets but it was nice meeting you all.” They watched in disappointment when she picked up the rest of the baskets, “I hope to see you again.” And she turned around and walked down the steps.

Lucy watched for a minute and closed the door then looked between the two boys. Lockwood was staring at George who glared back at him, both annoyed with the other.

“Yeah, I call dibs.” The two boys turned away and looked at the Lucy. “No, I met her first.” Lockwood tried to reason but George laughed. “You were going to keep her to yourself, I made her giggle.”

“No, she was laughing at you.” George rolled his eyes. “Still counts!” He shouted. “No it doesn’t!”

“Boys! You made a fool of yourself, which makes my case way better.” Lucy snatched the basket from George hands and walked away. “Come back, this isn’t over.” The boys followed her.

“I say it is, so shut up.”

[g1rld1ary]

Hi! If you're still taking Lockwood and Co requests, can I plz request an imagine where Lockwood finally becomes vulnerable in front of the reader and he lets his emotions out in front of her and she soothes him 🥹🥹🥹?

reaching out - anthony lockwood x reader

wc: 1664

cw: canon typical death mentions, family trauma

thanks for waiting lovely! hope this is what u wanted xxx

Lockwood was a puzzle. You'd been working with him for a while now and still couldn't truly understand him.

As a boss, Lockwood was great. Never too hard on you whilst still pushing you to further your skills, but always putting your safety first. As a friend, he was similarly brilliant. The perfect listener, he always had a smile saved up for when you needed it. Even as a housemate he was perfect; Lockwood never took too long in the bathroom or left messes around even though it was his own house.

As a boy? Lockwood was indecipherable. Always gentle but never vulnerable. Always a listener, never a talker when it came to personal truths. He was your best friend but you knew nothing about him.

It was definitely an atypical relationship you shared, but you weren't unhappy with it and it seemed that neither was he. You proceeded in your usual way for a year while you were in the company until one particular case.

Lockwood had been off all week and you weren't sure why. You were in the middle of a case; a tragedy where all but one in a family had been killed and were haunting their own home. It wasn't one you needed a whole heap of research for, but George still wanted to take the precautions of getting the building layout and checking for the possibility of any other ghosts, and for once Lockwood didn't fight him on it.

George and Lucy had gone to the archives to get the research while you and Lockwood were doing all the other errands; stocking up on supplies, doing a daytime tour of the house then getting groceries on the way home.

Shopping for supplies and weapons was totally fine, the both of you chattering away as normal. It was only when you approached the cast iron fence of the Victorian-style home that Lockwood grew quiet again, retreating into himself. You spared him a puzzled expression but didn't dwell on it there.

A sad-looking woman met you at the front gate, draped in black. She introduced herself as the deceased wife's sister, explaining her red-rimmed eyes. She led you both through the garden up to the house, sniffling quietly as she explained what had happened, a horrific freak accident that you wouldn't wish on your worst enemy.

Stepping through the threshold into the house, you could feel the gloom as if it were a tangible thing. What clearly used to be a loving home was already dark and lifeless, the photos on the wall mocking instead of nostalgic.

You could hear noise from down the hall, glancing curiously in its direction. Your host picked up on what you were looking at and explained it was her nephew, the only survivor.

"Will," She called, "Come here." Moments later a little boy came waddling up the hallway, toy truck in hand. Your heart clenched as you took him in, he couldn't have been older than six or seven, far too young to be orphaned like this.

"We're packing up his stuff today, he's living with me right now. I'm not sure he understands his family aren't coming back." Your eyes felt hot like you were going to cry just listening to their family tragedy. A glance at Lockwood said the same thing. You took the lead for the rest of the house tour, unnerved by Lockwood's silence.

As the two of you were leaving the house Will chased you both down the stone path, tugging on the tail of Lockwood's long coat.

"Please help my mum and dad and my sister," He said, eyes still wide with youth and innocence.

"Of course," Lockwood replied, ruffling the boy's brown hair gently. You thought he sounded uncharacteristically choked up.

"You alright?" You asked a while later, far from the house. You were both on the way to the grocery store, your hands shoved in your coat pockets to hide from the cold.

"'Course," Lockwood replied shortly, eyes straight ahead on the street. You tried to catch his gaze but he refused to look at you, changing the topic to what snacks you could sneak past George. You indulged him reluctantly, not pleased to move past his clear struggles so quickly.

You wandered home in near dusk, not doing much to get home before sunset. The groceries had been spread between the two of you so neither of you was carrying too much of the burden, but you suspected Lockwood was carrying enough emotional weight for the pair of you.

Silently, under the light of a ghost lamp, you looped your arm around his, providing a comforting touch. He didn't say anything, but you could have sworn he was leaning into you more than he ever had before.

You made it back to Portland Row in good time, only braving a few minutes out in the darkness.

Hours later, you crept through the house, painfully aware of each creak of the old floorboards. You peered around the door into the library, watching Lockwood sit in his armchair, bored as he flipped through a gossip rag.

"Hey," You said as you sat, curling up on the couch and surrounding yourself with a blanket. He smiled in response, greeting you quickly before turning back to what he was reading. "Are you okay?" You knew you were coming off intense but you were really worried about him.

"Yeah, 'course. Why?"

"I don't know, you've just seemed really off today. Down." You studied your fingers to avoid making uncomfortable eye contact.

"I'm fine," He said, almost aggressively. Realising his tone, Lockwood backtracked, "It's nothing, just--" Silence.

"Just?" You urged him, braving the jump to look in his eyes. It was immediately intense, a profound sadness replacing what was usually jovial charm.

"I was him," Lockwood said and you were immediately confused. You tilted your head, trying to work it out but Lockwood continued, explaining it for you.

"Will. I was the leftover. My whole family is dead, and I am the one left alive."

"Oh God, Lockwood," You whispered, patting the spot next to you. He followed you over, taking the blanket you offered.

"My parents died when I was really young, about the same age as Will. They were the first ghosts I ever fought." You couldn't contain your soft gasp, hand creeping over your mouth as you took in what he was telling you. "I had an older sister, too, Jessica. She was six years older than me, died when I was nine. An accident with some of my parents' old supernatural artefacts. I've been fighting ghosts ever since."

Somehow you'd started holding his hand, rubbing smooth circles over his palm with your thumb. You could hardly believe what you were hearing, you had no idea Lockwood's life was so devastating. All you'd learnt while working at Lockwood and Co was that his parents had probably passed away, given the house was his. You'd never heard about a sister.

"I'm really sorry," Was all you could say, not taking the risk of misstepping.

"It's fine." His voice broke on the second word, tears rolling down his red cheeks in a moment. You'd never seen Lockwood cry. It was devastating, but also unfairly beautiful. Crystal tears in honeypot eyes.

Before you knew what you were doing you were holding Lockwood, arms keeping him close as he shuddered through sobs. All you did was embrace him for a long time, letting Lockwood express the emotions he kept so close to his chest all the time.

It must have been at least ten minutes later when he pulled away, clearly embarrassed and rubbing furiously at his eyes.

"Sorry," He mumbled, looking anywhere but at you. You put a hand on his thigh to pull him back down to earth.

"Don't apologise. I want to be here for you. You're my best friend, Lockwood, I love you." Lockwood smiled at that, unlike his usual thousand-watt grins, more muted but undeniably genuine.

"Thank you," He said, the warmth seeping back into his tone.

With the moment mostly passed you suggested it was probably time for bed for both of you.

"And you stay home tomorrow. Lucy, George and I will go put Will's family to rest. Take the night off, okay?" While you firmly believed it was in Lockwood's best interest to avoid what was a clearly triggering event, it was also for your own safety. Lockwood and Co was disorganised at the best of times, having Lockwood lose it because he was thinking of Will and his younger self would only endanger every one of you. It was for the best that he stayed home. To your surprise, Lockwood didn't fight you on the order, despite being your boss. He just nodded, lost in thought.

"You remind me of her," He said suddenly.

"Who?"

"Jess," He replied, "She would have liked you." You smiled softly at that, a warm glow igniting in your chest.

"Goodnight, Lockwood," You said instead of addressing the scary genuine feelings blooming. He didn't reply, instead pulling you into a tight hug. His arms around you were warm, holding you in place as his head rested in the crook of your neck.

You realised suddenly how few hugs Lockwood had given you in your time at the company. Partly because it was a little unprofessional, mostly because Lockwood was typically too repressed to manage his emotions in such a healthy way. You enjoyed it though, it kind of felt like you two were meant to be like that, two halves of a damaged whole. When he pulled away his smile was just for you, bathing you in the love he'd never been able to express.

[edmione]

“We can’t let you go. Please stay…”

Found Family Tournament [Round 6/Semifinals - 2/2]

(list of characters under the cut)

LOCKWOOD & CO.

Anthony Lockwood Lucy Carlyle George Cubbins/Karim Holly Munro Quill Kipps

NINJAGO

Kai Nya Cole Jay Zane Lloyd